


Soul Marks

by glowingembers



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2018-11-16 07:09:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 29,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowingembers/pseuds/glowingembers
Summary: Arya never wanted a soul mark. Never wanted the beautiful art that covers your body and links you to your other half. Now that she has her mark she has to deal with the fact that the other person that holds the same art and her will probably never meet. She also has to deal with the the hate and jealousy of her sister. But when Margaery Tyrell arrives in the north it just gets that much more complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

Her mother had shown her and Sansa her soul mark for the first time when Arya was still very young. The longsword ran from her mother's underarm to her hip over her left side. On the hilt lay an ornate prayer wheel.

"Oh, Mother it's beautiful. So majestic." Sansa cooed with a light airy tone and glassy eyes. Arya tilted her head squinting at the art on her mother's side. It's seemed strangely familiar

"Oh," Arya spouted figuring it out "It's ice."

Her mother smiled at her. Pulling her sleeve back over her arm now that they had gotten a good look. "Yes, it is. That's why I almost married your uncle Brandon. My parents assumed he would be getting the sword due to him being the oldest. I was lucky he was so kind. As soon as I mentioned my Mark he called off our betrothal so that I could be able to marry your father."

"So you and father are soul mates?" Arya questioned. "For each other I mean?"

"Of course they are." Sansa snapped at her. Arya stuck her tongue out in return.

"Yes, we are. However, this is not common.” She gave Sansa a loving cautionary glance. “We are the lucky ones. Not many people get to meet their soulmate. And some who do don't even get to be with them."

Arya wrinkled her nose at that "Why? That seems stupid."

"Well, some people are already married when they meet. Or Betrothed. Or their families are from different classes." Her mother said stroking Arya's coarse hair.

"If people are soul mates they should be allowed to be together. Right?" Arya said looking at her mother who just offered her a slight shrug and a sad smile. "even if one of them is poor."

Sansa rolled her eyes ignoring Arya."How old were you when your mark arrived Mother?"

Catelyn looked back at her older daughter. "I had just passed my 13th name day. But your father didn't receive his till he was drawing close to his sixteenth nameday."

"Oh," Sansa bounced excitedly. "How old do you think I'll be when I get mine?"

"It's hard to say. No one knows why the marks appear at the time they do and the oldest I've heard of people being born with them is past their 28th name day."

"Oh, I hope I get mine soon it's so romantic." Sansa sighed making Arya gag. It was in that moment she decided she didn't care about soul mates and she hoped she would never have a mark. Soon after they all hurried off to the evening feast and Arya didn't truly think of soul mates and their marks again for another few years. That was until the day Robb got his.

Arya had escaped from her septa's clutches and was watching Theon and Robb fighting in the courtyard. She knew mother would be horrified if she saw the bout because they weren't wearing any armour but they were using live steel. Theon got a lucky swing in and Robb only had moments to jump away. The tip of the blade sliced down the front of Robb's top leaving a huge gash in his shirt. Theon was hoisting up his arm to swing again when something stopped him.

"What the hell is that?" he bellowed pointing at Robb's chest.

"I don't know." Robb breathed out. Gently he rubbed his thumb against his chest to see if it would disappear or smudge. When it didn't he looked up shocked "I guess I've been marked."

Arya hopped up from her seat and scurried over to see what the drawing was. It was a flower. Theon's loud laughter echoed in the practice yard as he mocked Robb for his 'pansy' mark. But it wasn't a pansy. If Arya had to guess, with her limited knowledge of flowers, she would say it was a rose. The petals were a deep rich red but they were decorated with snowflakes and frost making the ends taper out to white.

Over the next couple days, Sansa spouted 'how lucky' Robb was. She followed him here and there talking about how romantic the mark is. Robb finally had to tell her he would sick Grey Wind on her if she didn't leave him alone. Despite what he said to Sansa, Jon and Theon about not caring that he got a mark Arya knew he was quite fond of it. He looked down at it if he thought no one else was watching and lay his hand over it protectively during conversations.

Everyone agreed they couldn't wait for Sansa to receive her mark. If for no other reason than she would stop musing aloud as to what it would be. Arya and Sansa had a rocky relationship since they were young but it got a hundred times worse as soon as Arya got her mark first. Arya wasn't the first person to see it. She had refused to get out of bed and her mother had come up to her room to force her.  Ripping her night clothes off above her head she heard her mother mutter. "Oh, my."

"What is it?" Her mother shook her head. Unable to speak she placed a hand over her mouth in shock. Her eyes wide she pointed at Arya’s shoulder. Looking down at her right shoulder Arya blanked her whole shoulder was taken up by a wolf's face.

"Oh," She repeated her mother in a state of shock. Finding her voice she stuttered out "It... it's Nymeria."

"Darling" Her mother pointed again "look."

Turning her head she saw her left shoulder was taken up by a bulls head. Her mother said something in regards to removing the arms from one of her dresses so she could be presented to her father and left but Arya never looked away from the bull. It was large, dark and strong with eyes that look like a stormy blue sea. Arya looked across the curved sharp horns. Right beside them, she had a scar that she couldn't quite remember getting.

The scar spider-webbed out from the root of the horns. She couldn't explain why but she felt guilty for having the scar. Almost like she was tainting her mark by having the injury. Tainting her connecting her to 'him'. She took in a deep shaky breath and shook her head. Why was she even thinking about this? She didn't care about soul mates or marks that's what Sansa, Jeyne, and other silly girl talked about.

But she had a mate she thought looking back down at it. Drawing her fingers over the flat surface of the tattoo she felt the curve of a smile on her lips. No one could change it.

Suddenly her bedroom door that had been so gently closed by her mother burst open. Sansa stood there with a crazed look in her eyes. Her glare raked over Arya making her feel uncomfortable in her state of undress.

"It's not fair" she yelled stomping her foot like a petulant child. "I'm older." Marching over to her Sansa gripped Arya's shoulders and started rubbing hard as if to ware the art away.

"Ow, Sansa. Stop!" Arya yelled shoving her sister away.

"You shouldn't have one.” Sansa snarled “What poor man should have to be mated to Arya Underfoot, Arya Horseface. You don't deserve one! You..."

Sansa's yelling got cut short as Arya’s fist connected with her cheek. Sansa stumbled back for a moment staring at her with a look of shock that turned to hate. Screaming out she leaped back grabbing Arya by her hair and pulling hard. Arya, in turn, planted her knee into Sansa's abdomen.

Losing their footing both fell hard onto the wooden floor. After tussling for a moment Arya found herself on top of the struggle. She was giving her sister another punch to the ribs when their septa ran into the room grabbing Arya by the underarms and pulling her from atop her sister.

Throwing Arya a shirt the septa sighed over Sansa's swelling cheek before rushing her back to her own room leaving Arya alone.

Pulling on her shirt Arya slid into a seated position against her bed where it met the wall. Pulling her knees to her chest she could feel tears sliding down her cheeks but she just contributed it to the pain that still throbbed against her skull. She sat there for who knows how long when her mother hurried back in with a sleeveless dress. Seeing Arya on the floor her face dropped.

“Oh dear, what's wrong?” Dropping to the ground her mother wrapped her arms around her and pulled Arya into her lap.

Arya didn't look at her mother choosing to instead look straight ahead. Her voice was stoic and cold. “I don't want the mark.”

“Oh Arya, why would you say that? This is a wonderful thing.”

“No, it's not.” She felt another teardrop down her cheek as she turned to meet her mother's gaze. “It’s a curse. Something to give you false hope and then leave you broken when it doesn't work out. You said yourself father and you finding each other was a fluke, not fate.”

“Arya please.” her mother begged gently rubbing her daughter's arms.

Arya turned away from her mother again. Staring blankly at the wall she repeated. ”It's a curse”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stark Kids  
> Robb - 15  
> Jon - 15  
> Sansa -13  
> Arya - 11  
> Bran - 9  
> Rickon - 5


	2. The arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Starks rush to make winter fell presentable for the Tyrells. And are shocked at what the Tyrells have to present to them.

Weeks had passed since Arya had received her mark and Sansa and her had still yet to speak to each other outside of pleasantries meant to keep their mother happy. Everyone else had forgotten about their fight after news arrived that the Tyrells were coming to Winterfell.

Arya gasped for breath as the Septa yanked on her corset back. They had been rushing to get ready since they had heard of the Tyrell families imminent arrival. “I don’t understand mother.” She huffed back out. “Why are the Tyrells coming to Winterfell?”

“Lord Tyrell wishes to speak with your father,” Catelyn answered pins between her lips as she quickly added embroidery to Arya's skirt to make her more presentable.

“But?” She winced as she felt her septa harshly pulling her hair into a northern braid. “Is Lord Tyrell a war friend of father's?”

“No” Catelyn explained finishing with Arya's dress and patting the skirt straight. “No, the Reach fought on the opposing side during the war. He and your father have never met.”

Arya pouted crossing her arms. “Well then why is he coming here? Why does he think we want to meet him now?

“Arya!” Catelyn said sternly “You will be polite and pleasant to our guests. Understood? And remember” she stood looking her daughter directly in the eyes “No wolves in the dining hall while they are here. We can’t have the other Lords thinking we’re wildlings.”

Arya nodded but made sure her mother knew she was scowling. “Good. Now I’m going to check on Rickon. Please keep preparing for their arrival.”

After the two older women had left Arya glanced around the room finding nothing else she felt she needed to do. Throwing on her most worn out leather boots she started wandering down the hall to find her brothers. Walking into Jon’s room she found  Jon helping Robb straighten his collar while Theon laid out (with his boots still on) on Jon’s bed. Her brothers both nodded to acknowledge her presence and continued on with what they were doing.

“Really Snow? All Black?” Theon baited “I would have thought you would want to impress these pretty southern flowers?”

“Doesn’t matter what I look like,” John stated giving one last pull to straighten Robb's collar. “I won’t be meeting the lord's family.”

“Shame, I hear the Tyrell girl is a real looker. Don’t want them thinking you’ve already taken the black do you Snow?” Theon smirked.

“Really?” Robb sighed looking over at Theon. “Arya is here.”

Theon snorted before glancing over at her and rolling his eyes. “She has definitely heard far worse out of me.”

“True” Arya noted bouncing on to the bed beside him. “Will the Lord’s children even becoming?”

Robb glanced at John who shrugged. “Who can say. We don’t even know why they are coming?”

Stepping back from Robb Jon looked them all over. “Well if we are all ready we should go down to the courtyard to help set up.”

Theon moaned aloud with her but Robb grabbed her by the shoulders and walked her outside. Over the next couple hours, Arya helped them set up, cleaning up the arrows and the practice swords that had been left lying about back to the armoury. She was still in there when the Tyrells arrived. Rushing to her spot in the line up she could see her mother frowning at her. Looking down she realized she had gotten mud on her skirt and that all her hair had been mused out of its tight braid.

But all these thoughts left her mind as the Tyrell party came into the courtyard. Arya was shocked at the amount of colour. Her father and his men only had functional metallic coloured armour but these knights looked beautiful. Some of the knight's breastplates had ornate golden Roses in the middle of their chest. Others had huge jewels built into their sword hilts. The most beautiful item among them was the carriage. It was huge with shimmering bright green siding, and delicate golden art decorated along the edges and around the windows and doors.

When the door opened Arya was disappointed that out of the beautiful carriage stumbled a fat old man. Missing the bottom step he almost fell. Her and Bran had to turn away to keep from giggling. After came an older woman who held her head up regally. Arya was distracted by anyone else coming out of the carriage when Lord Tyrell started talking. “Lord Stark. Thank you so much for having us on such short notice.”

His voice was loud and flowery. Her father jolted at the level of volume of the other lord's voice. It was as if he wanted the entire courtyard to hear him instead of just her father. “We are happy to have you, My Lord. Welcome to the north.”

Lord Tyrell smiled. But Arya saw the elderly woman roll her eyes and smack his back with an attempt to be discreet. “Oh… Oh yes, this is my mother Lady Olenna Tyrell and my second son Garlan and my youngest son Loras and finally my daughter Margaery Tyrell.

Looking over at the young woman who could only be three or four years older than her she could see why Theon had heard she was beautiful. Margaery had a classic beauty with thick, rich brown hair that curled softly. Her large brown eyes were dark against her pale, smooth unblemished skin. Even threw her thick coat that she held up to the bottom of her chin Arya could see she had a slim womanly figure.

Her father kissed Lady Olenna’s hand and shook both of Tyrell lads hands when he reached for Margaery’s hand she dropped her fur collar. The Coat opened to reveal a deep V neck. This style of coat was unseen in the north for the wearer would likely freeze to death if exposed in that sort of way for any given time. But it was clear Margaery was showing off her mark. A tattoo in the center of her chest. A red rose that had frost and snow around the edges of the petals.

The Stark family took a collective breath. Ned went thru the motions of kissing her hand but he could not pull his attention from her mark. Margaery clearly saw the change in the Stark family her brow creased as she looked at all of their stunned faces.

Margaery's father, however, did not have the same powers of observation as his daughter and continued talking. “Lord Stark, Thank you so much for having us. We are here asking for your hospitality for what may be an extended period of time. We are…”

Lady Olenna hit him again and this time there was nothing subtle about it. “Quiet fool.”

He huffed at his mother glancing around confused. Catelyn stepped forward.“Lady Margaery may I introduce you to our eldest son Robb Stark.”

Robb stood star struck until Sansa pushed him forward. “My… My Lady. It is Wonderful to meet you.”

“You too my lord.” Margaery responded her head tilting slightly as she surveyed Robb. Despite her proper appearance her eyes glinted with excitement.

“Err." Robb stumbled over his tongue noting their current lack of privacy "Perhaps I may be able to show you around the grounds of Winterfell.” he offered her his hand.

Margaery reached out to take it but before she could her father stepped forward. “I’m not sure that is entirely appropriate.”

Lady Olenna let loose a grown that the entire courtyard could here. Robb looked back to his siblings for advice. Arya mimed ripping open her shirt which made Robb roll his eyes but Margaery giggled. “Don’t worry My lord I’m sure we will be spending lots of time together in the future.”


	3. The Betrothal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya has a nice conversation with the Tyrell boys and deep one with Olenna.

Arya and the rest of her siblings were sent away while her parents and Robb spoke with Margaery and her father and grandmother. Sansa had scurried off with Jeyne to gossip and Arya found herself with nothing to do. So she invited Loras and Garlan to join her and her brothers practice archery. Loras laughed at her so she informed him he was uninvited. Garlan smiled at that. Bowing slightly to her asked her to lead the way. They set up two targets and took turns once she got her first couple shots in she smiled the Tyrells lads faces were agog at her ability.

“You have a fine eye young lady,” Garlan stated scooping up his bow and notching his arrow. “Soo… how would you describe your brother?”

Arya snorted at him passing her bow to Bran. “Subtle. Well, I may ask you the exact same thing what is Margaery like?”

Loras snickered in return. “Yeah well, We asked first.”

Well, Bran said stepping up to the post.“I’d say he is Dedicated, Loyal and Honest.” And let his arrow fly.

Rickon scrunched his face sitting up on the fence beside them swinging his legs “He’s a great big brother.”

Jon smiled Rickon and his naivety. “Robb is very patient. He has to be when he’s got those ones over there to deal with.” He said gesturing to Bran and Arya. They both grumbled at him but Jon just rolled his eyes and continued. “However he is not very good at communicating or expressing himself.”

Garlan nodded “Alright Margaery will be good with that. She's fantastic at getting people to talk. And after growing up with our father, she needs someone who is dependable and honest."

Arya grabbed the bow back from Bran and notched it. “Well, it sounds as though they are perfect for each other.” Letting go of the arrow it hit dead center.

The discussions between the two families took up most of the day but just prior to the evening feast starting Ned announced the betrothal. Ale was broken out and the hallway exploded into celebration. It wasn’t long after that drunken Knights were singing songs of love and dancing in the middle of the room. Arya watched as Robb and Margaery waited for a distraction and started to sneak out the back doors. Arya stood to watch them over the crowd when she felt a delicate hand lay on hers.

Looking down she saw a Lady Olenna staring back at her. “Let them go dear. They deserve a moment alone after this morning.”

Arya scowled. “I wasn’t going to follow them. I just wanted to know where they were going.”

“Hmm” The older lady smirked nodding at her. Arya retook her seat still watching the other woman and biting her lip. “Is there something you would like to say, child?”

Arya took in a deep breath before spouting. “Why are you all here?”

“This is where they are serving the food,” she said gesturing around the great hall with a cheeky smile.

“I mean why are you in Winterfell? It’s not as if you could have known that Robb was Margaery soul mate.”

“No,” She stroked her chin. “But when your granddaughter is referred to as the young rose and her soul mark is a rose with snow on it there is only one place to start searching.”

Arya nodded “That makes sense.” Arya thought back to the conversation she had with her mother when she was young. “But Margaery is a lady her soul mate might have been a farmer or another general worker. You were Ok with that."

“Oh I was counting on it.” she sat back into her chair. “At this point, I would have preferred it. I had some land put aside for Margaery and her spouse right near Highgarden. That way I could have kept an eye on her and spoiled my great-grandchildren rotten. Now she will be all the way up in the North.”

Arya looked away feeling almost as if she was somehow intruding. As Olenna had spoken her eyes had grown sorrowful staring at the door Margaery had exited through. “Oh don't look so glum child it's not like missing her will kill me. It's a shame it wasn't like finding Garlan’s mate though. A reach lower house girl who was bragging about her mark for years preceding Garlan getting his. They were betrothed in a week.”

“You're finding the mates for all of your grandchildren?” Arya cocked an eyebrow

Lady Olenna nodded leaning into Arya. “Do you know why I married my late lord husband?”

Arya shook her head even though she knew it was a rhetorical question. “Power! And my son married as a military strategy. One of the only good military moves he ever succeeded in. Now we are the most powerful house in the Reach and there is no war to strategize for. So I will find the best person in the world for my grandchildren whoever that may be."

Not long after that, the Septa came to collect Arya and she went without a fuss wishing the older woman well. Lady Olenna had left her feeling rather confused. The next morning Arya woke with the conversation still sitting on the back of her mind. Going down to the courtyard she saw Robb and Jon practicing with the wooden practice swords.

“I would have thought you would be spending your day with your lady love,” she commented hopping up onto the fence.

“I will be this afternoon.” He said jumping forward with another swing at Jon. “but this morning she is with Mother and Sansa as well as all the other ladies having a sort of tea. Actually.” he paused ducking under Jon’s counterattack, “I think you are supposed to be there too.”

Arya let out a deep breath grateful she was not. Jon spoke as he backed away strategically “Did you compare marks last night?”

“Yes, we did.” Robb frowned letting his sword drop a little. Jon gave him a quizzical look before also letting his drop “She … She was very _thorough_ looking at my mark. Very… meticulous as mother would say. I guess I’m not the first gentleman to come with a rose on his chest. Others have got it tattooed on them so they could trick her into marrying them. She told me no matter how detailed they were none of them could draw the snow right.”

“That's unpleasant mate. At least it all worked out in the end right?” Jon offered.

“Yeah, I know.” Robb dragged the tip of his sword across the ground kicking up the dirt at their feet. “It's just supposed to be so personal. Yet now I know there someone out there with my Mark who tried to ... _steal_  my mate.”

“No there isn’t” Arya pitched, “You said yourself. The scumbags couldn’t draw the snow right.”

Robbed and Jon snickered softly at that. Only moments later the Septa came out looking for Arya so she sprinted off and her bothers chuckling turned to howling. Later in the day when she was getting changed she looked down at her bull. It didn’t have snow on it or any other tiny specks. Would it be easy to copy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all of my readers. Thank you all for all of your lovely comments they warm my soul. I've had three chapters in three days but now I've got to go back to work so I will probably be updating weekly from now on.


	4. The winds of change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The winds of change come to winterfell.

“It would be so hard to have a soul mark across your back." Sansa flourished her wrist pulling her embroidery tight. "You would never get to see it. You would have to have someone else describe it to you. But the day you got to see it on your Mate it would be so gratifying.” 

Arya groaned stabbing her embroidery hoop forcefully as Jeyne started sighing at her sister’s words. “Ohh Sansa, that's so true.”

“Arya would you mind bringing me the red thread by you,” Margaery said softly. Arya looked down at the red ball at her foot then back over to her soon to be good sister. It would be just as easy for Margaery to get her own thread out of the basket as it would be for Arya to get up and give Margaery hers. She could feel her Mother's gaze digging into her for having even paused before fulfilling the other woman's request so she stood scooping the thread up. She walked up to her and tossed the bundle into Margaery's lap. Turning to walk back to her seat she was shocked when the other woman snagged her wrist.

Making sure no one was watching Margaery pulled Arya in close to her. Whispering through her teeth. “In a moment I’m going to start a sentimental, sugary story about soul mates that all of these sitting bells will gush over. If you're at the back table switching needles when I start I’m sure it could buy you a good twenty minutes before anyone notices your, lack, of a presence.”

Arya’s face broke out into a huge smile for only a second before schooling her expression as to not draw attention to herself. “I can never repay you.”

Margaery smirked giving a light shrug. “I’m sure we can figure something out someday."

They both gave each other a discreet nod and Arya made her way to the back table right beside the door. She could still hear Sansa musing about when she would finally get her mark. Looking over Margaery gave her a quick wink. “Oh, Lady Sansa I’ve always believed that we receive our marks just as soon as we have grown enough as a person to be the person our mate needs. I know it is true for me with Robb.”

Arya opened and slipped out the door hearing her sister gush. “OH what a poetic, romantic idea. Lady Margaery you must elaborate.”

Arya scooped up her skirts and sprinted down the hallway taking in a deep breath. Sweet sweet freedom. This wasn't the first time Margaery had saved her either. Over the last week that the Tyrells had been staying at Winterfell Margaery had made a big scene of asking about the Stark parents marks at one of the meals so they wouldn't notice Arya sneaking in late with dirty skirts. Later when Arya was caught in the training area even though she wasn't supposed to be Margaery gave her an excuse. “Oh, that's my doing Lady Stark I had asked Arya if she would find Loras for me before the feast.”

Margaery had quickly become one of Arya's favorite people. She had become everyone's favorite person. Both of Arya’s parents thought she was a very good influence. Her father who knew she was helping Arya be wild and her mother who didn't. Sansa was enamored with her. The two of them had shared a few genuine gushy cheesy moments. Arya found it wasn't quite as revolting when Margaery was being all romantic as it was when her sister was.

Running around the castle looking for her brothers she couldn’t help but think of Margaery's words. Being the person your soulmate needed. The night before she got her mark she had been sent to bed without supper for punching Jon during a feast. She had done it when he said he wasn’t as important as Robb because he was a bastard. She snorted to herself thinking “How could my mate possibly need a person like that.”

Finally coming out into the courtyard she could see Robb, Theon, and Jon. All three were dressed in there riding gear standing next to some horses. “Hey” she called out to them rushing down the stairs and up to them. “Are you going on a ride? Can I come?”

“You're wearing a dress.” Robb said matter-of-factly.

“So what” she snapped pointing her finger at all of them in an accusatory manner. “I can out ride all three of you in any outfit.”

Robb cracked at that but Jon stepped up shaking his head. “Last time you used that excuse your legs were so covered in cuts and bug bites it looked like war wounds.” Arya crinkled her nose at Jon’s words. She remembered that day her legs got whipped by every bush she rode by, tearing at her skin.

“I can change into pants in four minutes. Three! Please wait for me.” she pleaded. Jon looked at Robb who shrugged.

“Fine. I’ll find you a horse.” Jon said with a large groan from Theon.

Robb rolled his eyes at the other young man. “Oh, why are you whining? You’re ditching us to see Ross as soon as we are out the gates anyway.”

“Oh be sensitive snow” Theon grabbed at his chest dramatically. “I only just lost my whoreing partner because he has a soulmate now. And it’s not like Snow is willing to help me with that due to his ‘morals’.

Both Robb and Jon blushed at his words. Arya turned away looking Jon in the eyes "Don't leave without me. Ok?

"Ok, Ok hurry up."

"ROBB" They all turned to see Ned Stark with a stoic face gesturing for his eldest son. Arya noticed a letter in his hand. Quickly nodding at the other men Robb hurried to his father. They quickly started into what was clearly a tense conversation.

"Should...I still change?" Arya looked at Jon.

"Yeah, Yeah I'm sure they will only be talking for a moment." She scurried off taking the stairs two at a time. Throwing on a pair of pants and a shirt that she had permanently borrowed from bran she thought about her father and Robb. Coming into the yard she saw Theon and his horse were missing.

Jon was leading his and Robb’s horses over to the stables. “Are we not riding?” she phrased it as a question but she knew the answer.

“No, he and father are going to talk to mother and Margaery. They got a letter from the King.” he said pulling the reigns tight around a post

“What does the King want with Robb.” she stroked the horse's nose.

“The King wants to host Robb’s wedding in the capital. Something about celebrating Soulmate's of such high status and he wants to host the entire family in the capital as well.”

“Oh, I guess that is flattering.” Looking back at him he was scowling. “What?”

“Robb and Father both have to be in the capital. And there must always be a Stark in Winterfell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my longest chapter but to be fair I updated before the week was up. I hope you enjoyed. Next Chapter will not be a rya's POV because there are some scenes she is not in.


	5. POV Margaery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scene Arya isn't in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be forewarned I'm not happy with this chapter and I will be going back to change little things but my edits won't change anything in the plot. I just needed to get it out there before I lost inspiration.

Margaery found it interesting how Robb was so much like each of his parents while standing stiffly in his course riding leather. Lord Stark and she had both taken a seat at the table in the centre of little wooden room where they were discussing the predicament the king had placed them in. Meanwhile, both Catelyn and Robb paced about the space. Yet as Catelyn filled her hands with tidying and menial busy work Robb stroked his chin the same as his father as if they could pull the answers from their beards. “Sansa or Arya could stay in the north?” Robb threw out to the room. “They are both old enough.”

“The lords would never listen to them. Sansa is too soft. She will let them push her around and Arya so hot-headed she may start a war between the Lords.” Lady Catelyn answered scowling her hands brushing at the dust on one of the many a paintings in the council room.

“Bran?” Robb looked over at his father who shook his head with a sigh.

“He's not far enough into training. If he was the acting Lord he would need one of us here to supervise.” He gestured between his wife and himself.

“We haven’t even touched on the fact that if certain northern Lords find out that Robb is being married under the seven-pointed star they may riot.” Lady Catelyn sighed. "Mother help us.”

Margaery frowned. “But were you not married under the Seven?”

“It was a time of war.” Lord Eddard offered a slight shrug and gave his beard another pull. “And the Lords had faith that I was devoted to the old ways. They may not have the same faith in Robb.”

“So we decline,” Robb said leaning his face into his fingers. “We thank the king for his lovely offer and explain that this is not a viable trip for us to make.”

“We can’t.” Catelyn sighed sadly, finally sitting in the chair beside her husband. Picking up the letter from the table and sliding it over to her son. “Have you read the king’s letter, Robb? He has made the decision for us and has already spent a great deal of money on the reception. By now the whole of the seven kingdoms has probably heard about the event. To cancel now would be a huge insult to the throne.”

Margaery leaned into her hand placing her fingers on her temples. “So we need to have our wedding in the Godswood, in the north for fear of upsetting the northern lords. And we have to have our wedding in the Great Sept, in King’s landing in fear of upsetting the King.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. “So,” Margaery continued after a moment “Why don’t we do both!”

They all looked at her like she had a second head. “Is it that crazy of an idea? We will have a ceremony here in the Godswood before we go south and a second ceremony in the capital. It appeases everyone. And can you ask too many gods to bless your marriage?”

“Each side will leave believing that they have the actual wedding of true importance.” Lord Stark nodded. “This will work. I shall inform Robert that I am remaining in Winterfell.”

“No Ned,” Lady Catelyn shook her head. “The King made it clear in his letter he wanted you to attend. If we know Robert, he is only having this event to get you to come south. I shall remain in the north with Rickon. He is too young to appreciate a long-winded Sept ceremony anyways.”

“But Mother, The Seven…” Robb stumbled unable to adequately find the words.

“The Seven are my Gods I know. But the king will not accept your father's absence. I have also assumed since you were young that you would not be married by the seven under fear of rebellion. Because of that fact I have been planning your wedding with the old gods since you were born. I will have no say in a wedding in the Great Sept but with Margaery’s permission I would be honored to plan the first one.”

Margaery nodded, smiling at her soon to be good mother. “I know very little about Northern weddings. I would be quite grateful if you could plan it for me.”

“It’s settled then.” Lady Stark stood collecting her skirts around her. “You will want to leave before the full moon. We do not want to keep the king waiting. That gives us twelve nights to prepare. You will want at least two night for the men who will be traveling to sober up from the first wedding. That means the wedding in the Godswood will be in nine days.”

Lord Stark also stood to start for the doorway. “If you will all excuse me, I will have ravens sent to all the houses. Some may not have enough time make it as it is.”

“And I must go to the kitchens to start preparations.” Nodding to each other they both stepped quickly out the door. Robb dropped into the seat across from her giving a sigh to match hers for this calming moment alone. Both of them reached across the table to take the others hands. Margaery loved that moment when their hands would touch it was as if they became one entity. It wasn’t like holding anyone else’s hand. A current flowed between them as if blood flowed through one's veins and into the others.

Robb gave her hands a light comforting squeeze before all of the muscles in his arms went loose. She looked up to meet his eyes. Margaery had only been in Winterfell for less than a moon's turn but could already recognize several different looks Robb had that came just from his eyes.

“Whats wrong?” she prodded nocking his foot with her own.

“Nothing” he shrugged. Turning her head she raised an eyebrow at him and he broke. “OK, it just… Shouldn’t … you think” huffing he dropped his head into his hand yanking at his curly red locks. Margaery waited, giving his other hand a squeeze.

“Shouldn’t our wedding be about us?” He fumbled out pulling his bottom lip through his teeth.

Margaery blanked. “What do you mean? We will have two weddings all about us. Well, won’t we?”

“Will we? Because right now it seems as though both of them have nothing to do with us. Just what the king wants. What the lord's want. What mother wants.” His eyes became trained down at the table. Ducking her head down into his sightline she pulled his attention back to her face.

"What do you want?" She looked into his Tully blue eyes

"I don't know. Nothing I guess. I just wanna stand next to you and tell you I love you. And promise to tell you that forever." Her chest swelled over those little three words that were still so new. Her grandmother had warned her not to take them seriously too soon but she couldn't help but believe him.

"Well come on then." She stood taking walking around the table. She gave his arms a pull. "Stand up."

"What?" he laughed letting her pull him to his feet. "Are we getting married now?"

"Well, why not? We were going to get married twice. Why not a third time? You are here. I am here. What else do we need?" He laughed again.

"Absolutely Nothing." He reached out to her ear tucking a little piece of her hair that had been mused out during her rubbing at the side her head in frustration gently behind. "You do make a beautiful bride."

"And you're a stunning groom in riding gear. Here I'll start." she held both of their hands in front of them. "Robb Stark, In front of you, not the old gods or the new I promise to love you."

"Margaery Tyrell, In front of you, neither the old gods or the new I promise to stand by you and love you for as long as I live. You will be my partner in life and I will stand by you and everything I have is ours." His words rendered her speechless. Rocking on the tips of her toes she kissed him.

"I love you."

"I love you too. My gorgeous wife."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Tell me If your a big Margaery/Robb fan and you have some ideas for me.


	6. Wedding preparation

“You're being ridiculous Jon.” The great hall that had been silent, save for the younger stark boys giggling as they and Arya helped Margaery taste test wedding desserts, now echoed with Robb's voice raised in frustration.

“There is no place for bastards in the Great Sept.” Jon's face remained blank as he walked with purpose into the great hall. Robb, who was trailing steps behind Jon, was so visibly tense it could be seen in his shoulders from across the room.

“It’s my wedding.” Robb continued to bicker. He took a quick pickup step to keep up with Jon’s unnecessarily fast pace. Robb could request Jon stop or slow down but Arya knew Robb never made requests of Jon if he could help it. Because of the ridiculous notion, Jon had that he had to follow them as law.

“I will be at the first wedding.” Jon stated flatly.

“So what are you going to do instead?” Robb finally reached out gripping onto Jon’s arm pulling him to a stop. “Stay here with Mother.”

Jon stalled “No.”

“Then what?” Arya could see the crease in Robb's forehead. “Ride to the wall _completely_ alone. There isn't a recruiter coming into Winterfell for another 3 moons turns Jon.”

Jon starred straight into the floor refusing to meet Robb's eyes. “Fine Jon. You know what. fine.” Robb turned on his heal and stomped from the hall. Only once Robb was gone did Jon notice all of the onlookers that had witnessed their bickering. Blushing fiercely he moved to the side of the room where some practice swords had been left behind. Clearly what he had come to collect.

“Can the three of you finish off these treats for me?” Margaery cleared her throat as she stood from the table. "It seems I need to console my husband.”

“You mean betrothed?” Bran questioned. Margaery smiled at his words and bobbed her eyebrows at him like she knew something he didn't.

“Yes!” Rickon ignored his brother. “The treats will be eaten.”

Margaery chuckled at that before taking off after Robb. Rickon quickly started snagging different tarts and cakes before Bran could start sorting them evenly. Arya pushed her's aside looking over at her favorite brother. He had leaned onto one of the far tables fingers balled into fists. Hopping up she made her way over to him.

“Robb's right you know. This is a really important event.” she frowned as she approached him. “Are you really going to join the wall?”

“One day.” He turned his back on her to scoop up the wooden swords. That comforted her a little bit to know it wasn’t _imminent_ but she was still frowning. She grabbed his arm so he wouldn’t keep turning away.

“You have to come to the wedding. You have to come, Jon! Why don't you ask father? You know he'll be honest. He'll tell you that you need to come. Please come.” she tugged at him again.

“He didn’t.” He’s anger steaming in his face as he softly pushed her hands off his sleeve.

“What?” Arya frowned in dismay.

“I already spoke to father. He told me It will be uncomfortable for everyone if I come. He told me people will be harsh and less respectful in the south as they are to me in the north.” All the fight in his body seeped out as he spoke. “He said he couldn’t even guarantee they would let me into the great sept during the wedding. It is better for Robb this way.”

"Father was being harsh."

"No father was being honest." Arya scowled at him throwing her words back at her.

"Well, You are being stupid. Jon this is Robb and his soulmate." her voice sounded fairly defeated.

He huffed at that. "I thought you didn't care about soul mates or marks."

"I don't." She snapped "They are arbitrary. At best make people believe they love someone they only just met and at worst they haunt the people who never get to be together."

He rolled his eyes at her and she realized she was side cutting apart her own point. "But Robb does care. For some reason, he believes Margaery was mystically meant for him. That they were fated to be together and every time they stand up in front of each other and say as much, is _'one of the most important days of their lives'_. So bugger all that the southern lords and ladies think. This is about Robb."

Jon had been Arya's chosen mentor her entire life and only coming up to her twelfth name day it wasn't often she could leave him feeling guilty about his choices but she knew she had today.

"There will be other days." he said softly.

"Will there?" Bran’s voice came up from behind them taking the two by surprise. Bran took a firm stance beside his sister. "Because if you're actually considering joining the wall they don't exactly let you leave very often to visit family."

"He's right." She jumped on Bran's train of thought. "When they have their first _precious_ soul mate offspring all you will be able to do is send a letter."

Jon snorted at her tone. "You are a _precious_ soul mate offspring."

"Yeah but this one will be double as _precious_ " Arya scrunched her nose. "and you won't be there to meet it."

"OH just come," Rickon shouted with a high pitched whine. They all looked over to see his tiny belly exposed to the air as he had pulled up his shirt up to carry the treats he had piled up to his chin. He had made it close to the exit as he had tried to make his escape out of the great hall. "Then they will stop talking about it."

Jon gave a heavy sigh looking back over at the two stubborn faces in front of him. "When did the three of you get so smart."

"We didn’t. We just look smart when you started making dumb decisions." Arya said in a pompous tone as if it was obvious. Jon promised to think on it and Arya and Bran left him alone to go snag their share of treats from Rickon before he got too far away. A few more days passed and Jon had agreed to come south for the wedding but had also informed Robb that he would be returning north as soon as possible.

Before long the day of the first wedding was upon them and everyone going south was semi-packed for the trip. Arya found herself in one of her most uncomfortable dresses sitting with her Mother and Sansa as they went back to how a ceremony in the god would go for Margaery.

"So only I have to say I accept Robb not the other way around." Margaery said watching in the mirror as her soon to be good mother pulled her hair into a northern braid down the back. “Oh, could you just go over the whole ceremony again? I can’t think when I’m this nervous.”

Catelyn calmly smiled back at their reflections. “Of course. Old God Ceremonies are much shorter than ceremonies for the seven and this is mostly because there is no one officiating. It will just be you and Robb in the center of the gods wood. Whoever is giving the bride away, in this case, Garlan, will walk you up to Robb. He will state who both of you are and ask you if you are willing to take Robb as a husband. Once you say the words ‘I take this man’ the two of you can kneel before the weirwood tree in a moment of silent prayer.” She tucked some stray hairs into Margaery’s braid pausing to make sure she was still following. Margaery nodded and she continued.

“Then Robb will stand and switch your cloak from your maiden cloak to his. At that point, Robb picks you up and carries you to the feast where they will ask you to do all sorts of different northern traditions.” Finishing with Margaery’s hair she gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“Like the bride toss.” Sansa piped in. Margaery raised an eyebrow at that. Sansa shrugged. “It's exactly what it sounds like.”

“Robb is lucky you’re so slight.” Arya added yanking on her dress uncomfortably. “The cobbler's son married the baker's daughter a couple moons ago and she was so much bigger than him they both went over. But he didn’t want to drop her so he twisted mid-air and maester Luwin said she broke all of his ribs when she landed on him.”

Catelyn sighed at her daughter. “No need to focus on that now. We can look forward to happier times.” At that, they all heard a knock at the door.

“Oh, my dear loving sister.” Garlan let his voice warble through the door. “I have come to collect you.”

They opened the door for Garlan and each of them gave Margaery a hug before they left to stay with Robb before the wedding. Arya was the last one to give her a hug and threw in. "Everything will be fine. I know Robb won't drop you."

"Thank you, Arya, I really shouldn't be worried. It's not even like the bedding ceremony is going to be tonight and that is the worst part." She joked.

Arya had taken a step toward the door after her family and stopped short. "You don't want to do the bedding?"  
  
"Oh no, The bedding I'm fine with. Don't mind me, Arya, I was only joking about the, for lack of a better word, 'stripping' ceremony."

Arya gave her a seldom nod. "Well, then you won't have to do it. I promise."

Arya disappeared behind the door and Margaery shook her head looking over at her brother. "she is a wonder."

He shrugged back at her. "Ahh I don't know Rosie that's the most _determined_ human being I've ever met. Plus Starks keep their promises.


	7. POV Margaery #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The winter wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the big gap of time my brother stole my computer charger for a week. The chapters a little choppy because there is a week in-between writing but hopefully you enjoy.

With the last of her preparations done and the time of the ceremony drawing near Margaery’s brother looked at her with an excited crooked smile. “Ready?”

“Ready!” She took a snug hold of Garlan’s arm as it had been offered to her. Laughing as they pressed their way out into the hallways. Both of them taking care not to step on her ornate, silver, northern style dress that contrasted so terribly with her green jeweled cloak. Garlan helped her down the stairs of the Stark’s guest keep and into the carriage that was waiting for them.

As they got seated and comfy the horses took off across the Winterfell grounds. Margaery looked over at her brother cheekily. “All right Garlan, last chance. You’re my lone married sibling. Is there any insight I need to know before it is too late?” she said in jest.

He hummed at her words surprising her when his face showed immense thought. Leaning back against the carriage wall he started. “Tell each other about the little things.” She raised her eyebrow but he continued. “Good, bad, seemingly unimportant. That way when some big happens everyone is fully informed and can appreciate it.”

She felt a warmth spread across her chest. Taking a deep inhale she reached across their knees and grasped his hand giving it a tight squeeze. “Thank you for that. That means a lot to me.” She gave a little laugh. “I honestly thought you were gonna make a raunchy joke.”

“mhaa” he let out a soft noise squeezing her hand in return. “Gotta be serious every blue moon. Keep everyone on their toes. Plus how could I help you with anything raunchy?”

They both froze the moment the words passed his lips muscles tensing. Awkwardness setting in at the familiar style of joke from their youth remembering they weren’t within the safety of their own home. Listening to the fall of the horse hooves they let out a gush of air. Confident that there was no one who could have overheard.

“Have you talked to Robb in relation to that yet?” he raised his eyebrows speaking softly. “Sorry, Rosie. Never mind it’s none of my business.”

“Don’t worry about it. You and I have always remained open with each other there is no need for that to change. No, we haven't talked about it. Not yet. I’ve tried a few times but he is incredibly awkward around that whole general subject.” She sighed looked out the window seeing the carriage had entered the outskirts of the gods wood.

“Well, he is a northerner. They can rather prudish.” Looking back at her with kind determination in his green eyes. “Talk to each other. I promise it will get easier.”

“I'm sure you're right.” she shrugged.

“You don't regret anything, do you? You know about that stuff?” She took a moment to breathe considering his question. In the liberal-minded south of Highgarden sexually promiscuous activities were seen as a healthy form of self-expression and harmless as long as measurements to prevent children were taken. However, the north saw the physical affection as scandalous conduct mentioned solely between man and wife and to be kept private.

“No.” she breathed out with careful consideration. “I have no regrets. I'm glad I lived my life and enjoyed my youth. And I as believe my husband sees more value in me than in my virginity.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He nodded. “You deserve it Rosie.” noting the carriage slowing as they reached the center of the Godswood. “speaking of whom.”

He hopped up from his seat as they came to a stop. Stepping from the carriage he turned to help her down. Getting her first glances around the Winterfell Godswood she saw her family members that were still up in the north and her in-laws standing at the edge of the tree-lined. Sansa and Catelyn were situated closest to the edge to get the first glances of Margaery as she entered. The mother-daughter pair stood with matching faces of tearful glee. Beside Sansa, Laurus was located looking slightly out of place near the rugged northern men as he did his best not be seen giving out tender blubbers.

But Margeary’s attention was taken by the man in the very center of the Godswood glowing with happiness. Contrasting the giant horrific face one the tree beside him Robb’s smile shone wide and gleeful. Garlan escorted her to the middle clearing his throat and standing tall as he addressed Robb. “Robb Stark. Allow me, Garlan Tyrell, to present to you my sister Margaery Tyrell.”

Shifting slightly he looked over at her. “Margaery. Will you accept this man as your husband?”

“I will take this man.” she nodded. Robb and her did their best not to snicker too loudly as Garlan muttered _shocker_ under his breath that only the two of them could hear.

Stepping away from them Garlan took his place beside his brother. They both leaned down to in front of the tree bowing their heads. Margaery had never found herself overly religious or in a spot where she felt the need to look to any greater deity for help or comfort. But at that moment when her knees hit the earth she felt a coldness running from where her knee rested on her threw to her shoulders and down to the tips of her figures.

The chill you get when you know someone is watching you from afar. The shiver of being judged by someone with power. Thinking of the old gods at that moment she knew she could not promise them her faith, soul or whole being as was asked of her. But at that moment she promised them her respect in exchange for the protection of Robb. She would protect the weirwood trees and respect their followers attempt of prayer. As long as Robb could live beside her as her love she would make sure the North as it was under her power would always respect the old gods.

Robb raised beside her shaking her from he thoughts. His arms came around her shoulders pulling the bright green ornate cloak from her. As it was pulled away she felt the shiver go straight up her back. However, when he placed his thick fur grey cloak place atop her arms she felt twice as the warmth. Looking up at him she only had a moment before he scooped her up in his arms. Letting out a laugh she heard both of their siblings give ‘woots’ of excitement as they made their way to the out of the thick of the woods.

As they made their way out of the woods and back to the hall the group they traveled with grew with more and more of the northern lords who waited for them along the paths and streets. Many different lords and tradesmen offered Robb their help carrying her but he denied each of them until reached the great hall and Theon appeared in front of them shouting out his voice already heavy with drink. “Alright, Robb you gotta give up. Time FOR THE BRIDE TOSS.”

She could feel Robb tension for only a moment before Theon had ripped her from his arms and subsequently tossed her into the air. Fear rippled through her as she flew with no support until Jon's arms pulled her close taking the brunt of her weight into his chest. “Don't worry, we will keep Theon at arms reach. There is not one northerner that will ever let you fall.”


	8. Pleasant Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will have to excuse my slowness. I'm getting ready for school right now and its taking up a lot of my time.

The ride from Winterfell down to the capital between the Starks and Tyrells was quite uneventful and comfortable, especially for Arya. Margaery chose to ride horseback instead of in the carriage often enough her father never minded letting Arya ride as well. When they would stop for the evening Bran and she would practice with their little wooden practice swords often inviting Mikken to join them while he was available.

Jon seemed slightly uncomfortable throughout the whole time they were traveling. He seemed to not really know when to shed his thick outer layers despite the heat. Yet whenever Arya asked him to join her in some archery practice or to fix her saddlebags straps where she couldn’t reach he always was happy to do so.

Margaery and Robb spent most of their time together. All the bannermen would still shout and whine at the end of the night as soon as they both made to retired to their separate sleeping arrangements mocking their celibate marriage.

The only bump in the long road was when Margaery came across Val. One of the girls travailing with them who had worked at Ros’ establishment and Theon joked she used to be Robb’s favorite girl. However, as Sansa had phrased it ‘Margaery took it in stride’ the next day taking her place at the side of her husband/intended the whole day in a low-cut dress made to display her soul-art.

However, once they arrived in Kingslanding everything took a drastic turn for the worst. Hopping out of the carriage behind Sansa she could see the royal family waiting in front of them. The king was different than she imagined as she saw him pulling her father into a tight hug against his large bulbous stomach that pulled the fabric of his shiny tunic tight against the buttons. The queen and eldest prince had matching faces of disdain as they looked over their guests. Arya felt uncomfortable under their gaze and wished Nymeria or Jon could be right beside her but both were stuck at the back of the caravan.

"Robb must smell terrible. If the Queen's face is anything to go by." Bran muttered out of the side of his mouth making Arya snicker. She was glad he was here with her.

As she came up to the king he smiled down at her. "You've got the North in you don't ya? So what's your name?"

She beamed at his words "Definitely, your grace. Arya, your grace." She gave her best curtsy looking a fool beside the one Sansa had given.

"We'll find you a good match while you're here." He said turning his attention to Bran missing the look of terror his words caused her. After meeting the royal family they were shown up to the corridor their family had been given and told they were expected in the great hall in a few hours for the feast they that was being given in their honour.

Before Bran had gone off to his own room he had asked Arya. “Are you going to bring Nymeria to the Feast?”

She nodded. “I don’t see why not. She has been locked up all day”

“Alright. That what I was thinking and…” He looked away slightly flustered. “I just thought I’d be more comfortable if Sunfyre was there.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Sunfyre? Is that the name you landed on.”

“No.” His shoulders sagged. “I just thought if I tried some out one of them might stick.”

“Hey, you two.” They looked overhearing Robbs voice to see both him and Margaery watching them. “If you’re going to bring them then they have to be on tethers. Understand? And Bran I wouldn’t try out any more dragon names while we are in the capital especially in front of the royal family.”

They both nodded and continued on side by side to their own rooms leaving the couple behind them. After the walked a little ways Bran said: "What do you think about the name builder?".

"Huh?"

"Builder for my direwolf. You know like Bran the Builder?"

She frowned shaking her head. "No. It’s awkward. Can you imagine calling for him? Builder, Builder whoo hoo builder come here boy."

He sighed nodding in agreeance. They continued walking along discussing more names and difference knights they had seen along their way. They were chattering about the Queen's brothers shiny gold and bright white cloak when they heard someone bawling and blubbering.

"I didn't do anything, your grace." The sobbing woman's voice came from a room they were passing followed by a shrieking cry.

“You will be silent.” A cruel voice snapped followed by another wail of pain.

Bran froze at the sound looking toward his sister, but Arya had already started rushing towards the room the sound had come from. Running up to the door she threw her shoulder against it forcing the door open. Stumbling in behind it she saw an empty room safe for the Prince, standing above a servant girl on her knees while holding a whipping crop in his hand. Not unlike the one her septa would strap across her knuckles if she was misbehaving during lessons. The servant girl's arms were held out in front of her shaking uncontrollably with multiple humongous welts with blood dripping onto the floor.

The Prince turned on her snarling. "Get out!" his voice cracked as he screeched at her. His crazed eyes flicked over to Bran behind her showing his slight fear behind his anger.

Arya stood firmly in her place moving her gaze over to the bleeding terrified girl. "What did you do?" she snapped it back at him.

"I told you to leave." He yelled stepping up in front of her glaring down at her practically growling.

"She needs a maester!" Arya shouted back.

Grabbing her roughly by the front of her gown he pulled her onto the balls of her feet. "Listen, wolf bitch..." That’s when Arya's fist made a solid connection with his face.

As he stumbled away in shock. Arya took the opportunity to scoop up the forgotten crop and chuck it out the window. Grabbing the girl under the arms she hoisting her to her feet. While making a run for the door Joffery grabbed at her catching only her sleeve and tearing many of the stitches from the body of her dress. Ripping it from his grasp Arya ran with bran on the other side of the wounded girl taking twists and turns down random hallways so he would have trouble following if he tried.

Once they were certain they had lost him they stopped running and came to a stop gasping for breath. "I don't... know where... we are." Bran huffed.

The girl stood straighter. "Don't worry I can lead you ba..." all the sudden she had lost her footing almost falling as she came close to losing consciousness. Both siblings grabbed her by an arm holding her up.

"I'll be Ok." she huffed wincing at the pressure of there hands near her welts. "Don't worry we don't have to go far."

They helped her along but as they made their way around the majestic hallways she got worse until they were almost dragging her as she nodded directions. Arya was thinking she might need bran to run for a maester while she stayed with the girl when three men came around the corner.

The king, An old white-haired man with a cane and a chest pin, and father.

"I ..." Bran faltered "We can explain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear everyone who came here for gendrya gendry is coming. I promise I tried so hard to get this chapter to make it all the way to him but it just would be. He is coming.


	9. The forge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry's first chapter. He has a Stark come to vist him in the forge.

People always said that steel ‘sung’ while it was being hit by the blacksmith's hammer. Gendry himself had even used the expression a few times to scare off smaller thieves and troublemakers around the shop. But truly the steel ‘rang’ under the hammers strike. Like the great bells outside the sept, it rang with a gentle fade unsuiting the noises of harsh creation. An artificial echo of the ringing sounded in the Smith's store as he struck the longsword again and again.

He hadn’t stopped his hammering when he had heard the footsteps entering the shop allowing Tobho Mott to greet the customer as was their custom.

“How can I help you, M'Lord…” Gendry heard Tobho leave a deep pause allowing the client to fill it in his name. Gendry bet he even did that stupid flippy hand gesture that made so many knights puff up their chests.

Claaaaaang  
Claaaaaang  
Claaaaaang

“Snow, Jon Snow and I’m not a Lord.”

“Ahh.” Mott’s noises were so familiar to Gendry. He considered that one the sound of gold stags disappearing. Shaking his head he flipped the sword over.

Claaaaaang  
Claaaaaang  
Claaaaaang

“Well, what are you looking for today, Sir Snow? Breastplate? New Longsword? We have walls displaying both and you seem like you’d be an easy man to fit.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m looking to have a specialized weapon made. I actually have some drawings.”

“Ahh,” Mott repeated. Just then another man entered the store. “Well, why don’t you show those to Gendry the lad just over there.”

Hearing his name Gendry dropped the sword into the bucket of water. He turned grabbing a cloth to clean off his hands. Giving his sleeve a tight pull down he cleared his throat before turning and greeting the other man. “Welcome. how can I help?”

Jon Snow looked in between Gendry and Mott, who had abandoned him for the new customer. A large bellied knight that had his coin purse obnoxiously off the side of his hip. Snow rolled his eyes and held his pieces of parchment out for Gendry to take.

Taking them he looked them over carefully. One page was a drawing of merely a hilt, Well designed with perfect counterweight for the finger grips. The other page had the full sword on it. Gendry thought it looked proportionally a little thin to hold the length of the blade. Glancing to the measurements for the first time he paused. "You sure these dimensions are correct?"

The northerner nodded back at him saying nothing. Gendry shifted his weight awkwardly between both feet he hated talking to customers let alone questioning them. "The only reason I’m asking is." he sighed gesturing to the paper doing his best to stay polite. "The length you have here, if the foil was placed on the ground from tip to hilt, it wouldn't reach farther than above your knee. I merely wish to make sure this is what you want?"

"Yes, it is what I want. And I Thank you for your thoroughness but you see the blade is not for me.” Gesturing to his lower chest he continued. “The sword is for my younger sibling, about this tall and thin as a stick. These measurements were made by the smith in our hometown for them specifically.”

Gendry gave a slight nod his eyebrows bobbed slightly surprised. “You came prepared. The designer didn’t want to create the blade?”

“He didn’t have time before the Lord's party came south. A prepared clientele isn’t common?” Snow asked leaning up against the table behind him.

"We get a fair amount of amateur artists coming in with their own layouts. Most don't understand what you need to have integrity in a blade." The other man had chuckled at his comments giving him the urge to smile. Clearing his throat he attempted to put on an air of more professionalism. "Well considering the receivers height and basic build this seems like it would be proportionally well designed. However would it not be better to wait till they’re fully grown or make it a little bit big so he can grow into it?"

Snow's face fell slightly. “I'm leaving for the wall soon. I want to give it to them before they go. I also don’t want to leave them with a dangerous sword they can’t use properly for years.” He shrugged. “And between you and me I doubt there is going to be that much more growth happening there.”

“Hmmm, so the whole family's short?” The words left his mouth before Gendry could stop them. His whole body froze in terror. Snow blinked receptively, mouth falling open slightly before with a start he started to chuckle.

“No. My father is a tall man. My older brother too. And I could still have a few growth spurts.”

Not trusting himself to talk Gendry just nodded but he couldn’t keep his eyebrows from bobbing questioningly.

“Oh come on.” Jon jabbed back. “You’re only a hand or two taller than me.”

“Yeah but I’m actually still growing.” They both started laughing. He was about to make another crack when he noticed Mott watching them from across the shop scowling at him.

Gesturing to the papers he continues. “Well, This all looks good. If you don’t mind I’ll make a couple of minor adjustments to the hilt’s width and the length of the filler. Just so he’ll be able to use it a little longer when his shoulders start filling out. Anything else I should know about your brother’s build before I start on the sword?”

Jon paused. He opened his mouth to speak but then shut it again biting his lip. “Well yeah. It’s not for my brother.“ he looked anxious shifting from foot to foot. “It is for my sister.”

“Oh, sister. Ok ya, you should have said that earlier." He rubbed his chin thinking. "Have you considered a bravossi blade?”

Jon’s arms went slack with surprise. “Ah what?”

“Bravossi Blade.” Grabbing a piece of charcoal and parchment he gestured Jon closer to see what he was drawing. “It's a wide-based blade that thins out to the tip. Better for people whose weight is more evenly distributed between their hips and shoulders. Actually, I’ve got a fair few of them under my belt. Last time the sand snakes were in king's landing for a tournament someone left the luggage with their practice blades behind. Had to pump out the most of them I could as fast as possible.”

“You’ve made blades for females before.”

He nodded. “Of course.” He gestured over to Mott who was currently attempting to squeeze the large-bellied knight into one of the breastplates. “You have to be a demon for us to turn away good business.”

Jon paused nodding slowly taking on a brooding expression. Gendry could tell he was having trouble processing all the information that had just had laid on him.

“Look.” He reached out resting his hand on the other man shoulder. “Come back in a couple of days. I’ll make up some real drawings of the Bavrossi style while keeping as many of the aesthetic choices of your original drawing as possible. Then if you're still not sure I’ll make this first blade. How does that sound.”

“Wonderful.” Jon’s face cleared. Reaching into his breast pocket he pulled out a little bag and pulled two stags from it and offered them to Gendry. “A down payment... for the drawings.”

“Oh that not necessary.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t like to hear you say that.” Jon nodded his head toward Mott still holding the money out.

Conceding he shrugged taking the coins and wished Jon well on his way. He smiles absentmindedly to himself after he had left. It had been a long time since he had a consumer he worked so well with. And a time since he had talked with someone so close to his own age. Picking up the sword he had been working on before he looked over at Mott and the fat knight that was now wearing a breastplate that pushed his fat out the bottom endangering his intestines and kidneys. Such a long time.

He went to go back to hammering when he noticed his left sleeve had ridden up showing the neck of the bull. Giving the sleeve a quick pull he thought “I wonder how long that has been like that.” then turned back to the anvil.

Claaaaaang  
Claaaaaang  
Claaaaaang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I stole a little from the show but it just fit so well into the scene. Hope you enjoyed.


	10. Ned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning this chapter continually refers to Jon Arryn as Jon people don't get confused.
> 
> This is a timeline side by side with chapter 8.

Ned, Jon, and Robert had entered the King's outer chambers to sit and talk when the blond haired boy started whimpering pitiful words over not supposed to be leaving the king unattended. Robert snapped back at him that the King can do as he likes. Finally, Jon appeased them both by telling the Lannister boy that if he was going to be staying around he had to first bring them some wine. Lancel scampered off leaving the three of them alone together for the first time in over a decade and a half.

After the boy left Robert had shut and locked the door behind him before going retrieved wine from one of his cabinets. Eddard chuckled. “Are you always so tough on the lad.”

“Mahh.” Robert huffed walking over to the long table and flopping back into a chair. “Cersei sicked the boy on me. Can’t get a moment alone now. I’ve got lions coming out my ass.”

“I’ve heard enough of your whining about them.” Jon huffed at Robert taking a wine glass his wrinkled hand. Turning his old blue eyes to Ned he continued with a smile. “I want to hear about you, Ned. It has been a long time since I’ve even got a letter from you. What has been happening in the north?”

Ned shrugged feeling guilty over his poor communication. “It was all quite calm before the Tyrells arrived. I didn’t have anything much to report. After they arrived everything quite quickly. I couldn't find time to get a word in.”

“So the young rose sunk her claws into your heir." Robert cracked taking a swig of wine. "Must have been able to knock the lad over with a feather when she arrived claiming him.”

Ned felt himself shrug again. “ Could have knocked any of us over when the girl stepped out with Robb’s mark on her breast. The poor boy just stood there staring at her. Had no idea what to say.”

“You're saying they are actually ‘Mates’ then?” Robert questioned blankly.

“Of course.” He bucked, his brow’s furrowed at Robert’s brash question. Looking over at Jon the other man shrugged shaking his head.

“It’d nothing Ned. Some people on the council have been questioning their marks because of the..” he wavered struggling to find the correct word. “Idealness of their situation.”

That only made his brow furrow more. “Idealness. Of what? The fact that they are both high lords children.”

“OH, come on Ned.” Robert groaned. “You’re not a stupid man. You rule of the largest of my kingdoms and the Tyrells over the richest.”

His jaw tightened at that. “You don’t have faith in my honesty my liege? Or is it my fealty you're questioning?”

“Oh don't be like that Ned. I am fully aware you couldn't take an un-honest shit.” Robert gave a sweeping gesture with his arm to brush him off spilling his wine in the process. “It’s those rose faces cunts I don’t trust. The Tyrell's are just as obsessed with gold as Lannisters and they're out shitting the stuff.”

Ned looked to Jon in hopes that he would find support against the lunacy only to find him nodding in agreeance. Looking in between them a few more times he let out a snort. “Kingslanding has driven the two of you to utter paranoia.”

Robert gave a humorless laugh “It’s the only way you can survive in this hell hole, Ned. Given the chance, I would take to the king’s road and leave it all behind me. Leave all of these prissy lords to rot with their knives at each other's throats. Spend all my days with good food, wine, and whores leaving a trail of bastards behind me.”

Jon snapped at that rolling his eyes. “You do more than enough of that now.”

Ned tipped cup to the older man agreeing. “I believe that.”

Robert let out a huff at the two of him gaining up on him. Gesturing towards Ned he spoke to Jon joyously. “You're much braver with him here. Normally you wouldn't be so brash when talking to your king.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Normally I’m too busy running your kingdoms to discuss your disgusting habits or your hoards of bastards.”

“Hoards?” Ned questioned.

Jon merely nodded at him but moved on. “How's your bastard doing? The little Jon. Did you bring him with you?”

“Oh,” Ned tensed doing his best to keep it out of his body language. “Eyy he traveled with us.”

“Good,” Jon responded. “I am determined to meet my young little namesake before I drop down dead.

“Well don’t even think of dropping dead anytime soon.” Robert cut in “as you said before I need you to run my kingdom.”

Jon was going to respond to that when the door started to rattle. The individual on the other side unable to push past the lock. Finally came a tentative knock followed by Lancel quiet voice. “Your grace. The Queen has called a meeting in the great hall. She demands you come as quickly as possible.”

“Demands does she. And who is she to demand anything of me?” Robert thundered back at the door not moving from his seat.

“Please your grace.” The lad begged through the doorway. “She had deemed it as being the utmost importance and also requests Lord Stark's presences.”

Jon sighed. “Alright run ahead Lancel. Tell the Queen we are on our way." After they heard the sound of his feet scampering Jon added to Ned. "Only person the lad is more scared of then Robert is his wife."

"Boy just doesn't have his priorities right yet." Robert quipped as he dragged himself out of his seat.

They all started toward the great hall taking a slow calm pace. They had been walking, sharing jokes and memories when they heard panicked noises coming from down the corridor. Sounds of huffing and groaning meet with sounds of falling feet running quickly. The three men had come to a full stop when the three rumpled individuals came to a jolting halt in front of them.

The breath left Ned's body as he heard. "I ..." his son faltered "We can explain."

“Seven hells Ned.” Robert bellowed at the sight of the Stark children panicked states. Ignoring his friend he rushed up dropping down to Arya and Bran’s height. Reaching out he took the weight of the now fully unconscious woman from them. Twisting slowly he gently laid the woman carefully out on the ground. A quick glance told him she had been struck many times and over her face, body and mostly her arms.

“What happened?” he asked trying to keep his voice even. His eye flicking up to his children who were both heaving heavily. Bran's slight quaking told him it was a mixture of both there excessive dashing and pure panic.

“He was hurting her.” His daughter's voice warbled as she spat out the words.

“The woman was crying out that she hadn’t done anything.” Bran cut in.

“She needed a maester. She needs a maester!” Arya's words spewed past her lips as her brother was still talking. Her hand had reached out and graphed his sleeve to steady herself. Looking back he made eye contact with Jon. The older man nodded silently before leaving find someone to help the unconscious servant girl.

"It was a wiping crop, Father. A whipping crop!" turning back he rested his hand on Bran's arm to give him the same support. He nodded without words to let them express the horror they had clearly witnessed.

"He is cruel and horrible, veil, disgusting." Arya snarled.

“Then he grabbed Arya…” The seconds Bran's words hit his ears snapped.

"What?" His full attention turned to his daughter scanning her for injuries. "Are hurt you?" His one hand went to blood that had strained her skirts the other to the torn shoulder sleeve.

"No! I'm fine. That’s not mine." she gestured to the stains. Arya's eyes turned nervously to the king before looking back at him. "He let go when I hit him."

"Who." Robert who had stayed back walked up behind him looking at the children. "Who did this to you girl."

Ned was surprised to see Arya's jaw clamped shut at the king question, muscle twitching. "Arya?" He nudged her to answer but she was avoiding his gaze.

But it was Bran that spoke in the end. "The Prince. It was the Prince."

 


	11. Consent

The king led the way to the great hall. After reaching them and giving her story to her father Arya felt suddenly exhausted. She knew the colour had drained from her face and she was not fully taking in anything around her. Her tired mind was only processing parts of the king’s ranting. He was spewing off exasperated insults toward his own wife and son as he stomped through the halls. “Gold shitting little shits… the audacity to call on me… little fuck’s a menace.”

The whole way her father kept a hand on each of her and Bran’s backs.  It was clear he was attempting to keep pace with the king, who steamed on ahead of them but did not push them allowing them to take the quickest pace their bodies could muster. She hadn’t even noticed Robb and Margaery coming towards them until they were right in front of her. 

“What happened?” The sudden presence of Robb’s voice caused Arya’s attention to snap up to him. She could see his gaze bouncing frantically in-between family members. 

Her father answered without stopping. Lifting his hand off her back for a moment to gesture for the couple to walk in beside them. “It would seem your siblings have had a run in with the Crown Prince. The Queen has called an assembly in the great hall.”

Robb’s burrow furrowed his expression falling disapprovingly. He fell into place alongside Bran angrily murmuring about having ‘only been in the capital for a number of hours.’ Oppositely Arya noticed Margaery, who had come to walk beside her, had a very calculated look on her face. Swiftly she had started to work pulling pins from her hair.

“What are you doing?” Arya questioned. She surprised herself with how shaken and quiet her own voice came out. 

“We will make sure your dress is properly fixed later but for now I’m just going to pin it together. O.K.?” Margaery gathered the torn sleeve pieces in her fingers as she spoke but waited for Arya to nod her consent before poking several pins through the fabric scraps.

Margaery’s embroidery experienced fingers worked hastily and well. When she finished Arya’s sleeve appeared to be completely sturdy and unremarkable to any onlookers. While Margaery’s own hair only seemed to change from an elegant up-do to a graceful half up half down style.

Once they had reached the great hall the King had thundered in loudly pushing thru different knights and lords. All of which stood aside leaving an opening for the Starks as they made their way to the front of the room.

Arya was uncomfortably aware of the masses of people in the large room. She couldn’t help but wonder how everyone had arrived there so quickly. She seemed to not be alone in these thoughts as the king hollered “Don’t you sheep have anywhere better to be in the middle of the day?”

Once they had reached the front of the hall Arya attention was taken by the huge metal throne reaching into the air in front of them. On either side of the frightening monumental structure stood the Queen and her son. Joffrey was pouting and looking down but the queen kept a respectful air of control about her. She surveyed them all as they walked up to the front of they room.

“Robert.” The Queen said calmly. “There are important issues to be discussed.”

“Is there? And you felt you had the authority to decide where my presence is needed? ” The king snapped at her walking up the steps toward them.

A little anger flashed in Cersei's eyes. “Your son was attacked.”

Even from the bottom of the steps, Arya could see that there was a slight yellow shine on both sides of the soft tissue of Joffrey's eye where she had hit him. She felt a slight bust of pride amongst the fear that had her pressed against her father's side.

“I heard.” Reaching where the prince was standing he grabbed Joffrey's chin pulling him close to examine him. Nodding he turned slowly to face the whole stark family and subsequently the rest of the room. Arya could feel all the lords and ladies hold their breath waiting for him to speak. “Now girl, next time you throw a punch aim closer to the nose. The cheek gives your knuckles a little bit of cushion and you won’t hit the brow bone. You did more harm to your hand then his face.”

“Robert.” Cerci screeched, eyes now blazing with anger.

“Oh, quiet woman.” Robert turned his back on her flicking his hand back dismissively.

“There is a punishment for assaulting a member of the royal family.” Her words spit through her teeth.

“You want me to take the girls hand for swatting at your son.” Robert flopped back into the throne. Arya was surprised he didn’t hurt himself on all the sharp edges with his sluggish movements. “After he had already grabbed her and torn the little ladies sleeve.”

Arya noticed that as the king blurted out these last words Cerci blinked twice before her glance flashed to her son who was looking away. ‘She didn’t know that.’ Arya realized ‘Joffrey didn’t tell her that part of the story.’

There was a quiet murmur that went threw the room as everyone took in that information that the prince had started the confrontation. Everyone fell silent when the queen softly said: “Her clothing doesn’t look torn.”

The king's eye fell on Arya at that point. One eyebrow shooting up before looking at her father who responded coarsely. “Lady Margaery kindly repaired it for my daughter.”

“So quickly?” The queen spoke slowly as her gaze moved to Margaery “You had a needle and thread on you at the time? How fortunate.” 

Another murmur went through the great hall and Arya wanted to turn around and scream at them to be quiet. How could they not tell that the Queen was trying to make everyone doubt their story? As she tensed her father started to rub his thumb over her shoulder protectively and she pushed closer to his side scowling. Margaery, however, kept a pleasant smile on her face as she looked at the royals and answered. “I am grateful that you would think I am so prepared your grace, but I merely used some extra hairpins I had in my bag. I was just so happy I could help condole my dear good sister. She was so shaken.”

The crowd gave a more mournful mutter after Margaery's words and Arya saw Cersei's brow and lips twitch momentarily into a scowl and back. Arya would have smiled out of spite if she hadn’t been so uncomfortable. But her skin crawled, even more, when the queen spoke. 

“Well, then you wouldn’t mind removing the pins. If the Royal family is going to be accused of something so terrible at least we can see some proof.” She looked at the King who simply rolled his eyes and gestured for them to do her request with a flick of his hand.

Her father tensed with her, “I’m not sure if that is completely appropriate... Your Grace.” 

“Arms aren't considered overly improper in the south Lord Stark.” The queen mocked but it was clear she was correct. The Queen’s own shoulders were visible and Margaery, who stood next to Arya, only had a three finger width worth of sleeves.

Not being able to move any closer to her father looked up to him pleadingly. His eyes flicked in between the different members in front of them silently contemplating on what to respond. “My daughter’s Mark…”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter Ned.” The King cut him off. “ It’s not like they're asking you to expose the girl. Just give the roaches what they want so we can leave this mess behind us.”

Arya watched the muscle in Lord Stark’s jaw pulse three times before he nodded not breaking eye contact with his oldest friend. “As you command. Your grace.”

The king sighed at him rolling his eyes but did not change his statement. Margaery crouched to Arya’s height after Ned nodded to her but again waited for Arya to nod before her fingers worked on the sleeve.

Arya could feel every eye in the room tearing through her as individuals craned their next to look at her. As the fabric flopped down she stared straight into the ground throwing daggers with her eyes enraged at the unworthy scum of lords around her.

“Well,” she heard the queen say. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

“May my family be excused, your Grace?” Her father said harshly, laying his hands on each of her shoulders.

“Of course Ned.” before the king’s words were even out Arya felt herself being directed out of the room. The family walked in silence back to the chambers they were given. Once they arrived Arya detached herself from her father’s hands and gave a disjointed bumble of words about going to see Nymeria. Her father also excused himself but before she was out of earshot she could hear. Robb and Margaery saying:

“That woman's a snake.”

“She was embarrassed because she was caught unaware.  The Queen is not used to being embarrassed so she took it out on Arya... Oh darling, I’m so sorry but welcome to life in the Capital.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry that took so long these chapters seem to get harder as I go. hehehe eehhh. But I promise not to stop till I have at least a semi-soothing conclusion. 
> 
> Questions for my readers:
> 
> #1 should bran be injured like he was in the books or is this just a different world?
> 
> #2 Anyone have any good Robb stories I could read? He is easily the hardest character for me to write and I could use some idea's.  
> (also don't be afraid to promote your own work) 
> 
> (also I promise not to steal I just need more of a feel for the character because 3 books and seasons is not enough apparently.)


	12. Pre-wedding planing

Five nights had passed since they arrived in Kings Landing but the tension that hung in the air refused to dissipate. Sansa was the only Stark Margaery hadn’t seen actively brooding over the events that had followed their arrival. She wasn’t sure if she should contribute that to the northern girl not having been in the great hall for the unpleasantness, or that she was merely better at hiding her displeasure. Where Sansa had remained politely apathetic in appearance Cerici continued to make her vexation clear to everyone. But whether the all of the dwellers of the Red Keep liked each other or not, her wedding date was imminent. So Margaery had taken to splitting her time in between comforting her good-family and finishing preparing everything that was expected of her as the bride.

She was currently working with the royal seamstress looking threw fabrics. Her two youngest brothers on pedestals behind them in states of undress. Where Loras stood content in his undergarments, Garlan continued to shift uncomfortably. “How come Wallace doesn’t have to be standing here.”

“Because I trust him to dress appropriately for my wedding.” She glanced at him over her shoulder quickly before turning back to the seamstress who was holding a bundle of cloth in front of her. “Beautiful! Let's see how this one looks on Loras.”

Loras scoffed making his offense known. “You think I can’t dress myself? Like I understand needing to dress Garlan…”

“HEY!”

“But I, clearly, have the best taste in this whole family.” He puffed his nose up in the air as he spoke but still bent down so t seamstress could lay the fabric over his shoulder.

“You might know how match colours well but I still need to make sure your outfit is modest enough for the sept.” She didn't bother looking at him as she spoke continuing sorting threw everything up with the two fabric cutters. “I think they could both use simple black pants.”

Eventually, she hushed them, and her brothers remained in silence for a slight while until Margery was happy with her clothing plan. Garlan was the first to speak while he and Loras were getting back into their clothes. “How’s are the two little wolves doing after their … arrival.”

“Good actually, Lord Stark was right. He just let them explore freely for a brief while. They took time discovering all the treasure troves the red keep has to offer, and they’ve moved passed it happily. They are both avoiding the prince with a vigor though.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Loras added. “Shrimpy, wormy snub is a menace! And with the amount his mother coddles him, he’ll never get any better.”

They all nodded in agreement, and for a brief moment, it felt like old times in Highgardern. But Margaery was to busy to reminisce. “Speaking of his mother, I am late for tea time. See you for dinner?”

Her brothers wished her luck and promised to see her later as she rushed out. She hadn’t made it very far down the hall when she heard someone saying her name. Once she turned her head, she saw Robb coming up behind her. A firm hand on each of Bran and Arya’s shoulders.

“Morning Love.” She smiled back at him. Leaning over his siblings, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. The public display of affection made both Arya and Bran react in disgust, and Robb's ear flush bright red as he smiled back at her shyly.

‘Silly prudish northerners’ she thought before asking. “Where are you all of too?”

“Well, Arya here is supposed to be at Tea with you and Sansa. But somehow she got left behind. I was hoping you could make sure she got there.” She nodded as a very annoyed Arya moved to her side. “And meanwhile I’m taking Bran to see the training yard.”

“Really? The training yard -- today?” she shifted uncomfortably as he chest tightened. But she did her best trying to keep her voice light and airy.

“It’s Fine.” He gave her a calm smile. His blue eyes were giving a cheeky look as he saw through her facade. “Everything's coming along perfectly.”

She frowned uncertainty biting her lip, but he continued counting off on his fingers. “It’s O.K - The updates to the seating plan has been made to accommodate the extra bannermen your father invited. - All my family’s outfits for tomorrow are being ironed. - Save for Jon who currently being fitted for a new blue shirt, so he doesn’t ‘look like he is in mourning.’ But, so that you know, I have taken the liberty of letting him keep his black jacket and trousers, so he still feels semi-comfortable. Trust me! Everything's under control. Plus Bran and I will only be in the training yard for an hour or so while you girls are at this tea with the queen. Once you’re all out, I’ll be back to making sure all of the pillars in the Sept have the right colour of fabric wrapped around them.”

She felt her body relax as he spoke a smile coming easier to her lips but she made sure to wrinkle her nose at his cheekiness. “You tease, but that actually makes me feel a little better. And speaking of that tea, we should be going. We are going to be late as it is. Have fun in the Yard.” The boys turned going back the way they came, and her and Arya continued quickly to the queen’s quarters.

They were drawing close to the queen’s chambers when Arya spoke quietly under her breath looking suspiciously around the hall. “Margaery could I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” She responded quietly in kind. “You can always ask me about anything.”

“Father has been telling me that this tea might be an olive branch from the queen. Do you think that could be right?" Her little grey eyes searched Margaery's face as she spoke.

Considering it for a moment, she nodded. “That is a very nice way of looking at it.”

"But not necessarily true !" Arya's head bobbed. Margaery guessed Arya thought that her suspicions were confirmed.

“I don’t know. It might be.” She sighed leaning into the other girl and wrapping her arms around her shoulders "But Arya I do know that you're going to live a long, hard life if you expect evil doings of everyone you have a run in with.”

“Are you saying I should ignore my gut?” She scrunched her face up as she spoke. They had reached the queen’s door with golden armoured guards on either side.

“Not at all listening to your gut is essential for surviving in this world." She floundered for a few seconds looking for the correct words. "I am saying spend more time surrounding yourself with the people you do trust then worrying about the people you don’t.”

Patting Arya’s back, she attempted to give her a bit of comfort while also ending their conversation. As they passed through the door the ten or more noble women's eyes fell on them. Most gave them a quick nod in greeting and back to there conversations but at the head of the room, sitting in a throne-like chair, a pair of sharp green eyes followed them with hawk-like persistence.

Sansa who was sitting on Cercei right with the princes across from her smiled brightly at her arrival and gestured her over. Margaery made to do so with Arya close on her tail.

“Your graces.” She said curtseying as she drew close.

Cercei nodded back but before any other conversation could continue Sansa’s hand had reached out grasping her own. The other girl's eyes glittered with sheer excitement. “Margaery you must join us. The queen has been telling me the father is planning my betrothal... to the Prince!

Margaery jaw fell open completely agog “The..the prince, a b… betrothal.” she tripped over her words as they fell from her mouth.

Sansa, missing her good sister's shock, continued quickly words spewed from her mouth in total exhilaration. “Can you imagine it Margaery? I’ll be a princess! It will be glorious. My children will be princes and princess. The will be beautiful golden hair royalty. Not nearly as remarkable of a princess as Marcella of course.” she finished smiling broadly at the princess across from her who giggle back.

“Oh, my. This is moving marvelously fast.” Margaery panted.

“Don’t worry about the wedding competition.” The queen cut in giving her empty smile. “They will have a long betrothal. Your wedding will definitely be long forgotten by then.”

“That wasn’t what I…” She started only to be cut off by Sansa’s excitement

“Oh, and the two weddings will be so different. I will decorate everything in gold just like Joffery's hair. Imagine the number of people who will be there?”

“Yes, it sounds beautiful." She placed her hand on Sansa's shoulder to bring her back to the conversation that her imagination had pulled her from. "This seems like a lot of planning so quickly. Your father hasn't even spoken to you about it yet.”

“I surprised lady Tyrell. I thought you would have been excited for her?” Cerci said looking into her wine glass.

“Of course she is!” Arya snapped cutting in surprising everyone. “She just thought Sansa wanted to marry her soul mate.”

Arya turned her eyes to Sansa her voice getting softer. “Didn’t you?”

Sansa bit her lip at that point her eyes losing some of the excitement she had been emitting. The Queen cut back in her eyes meeting Arya’s in ferocity. “You're old enough by now. You should know that is not realistic. Plus why would a girl without a soul mark chase a fairy tale.”

Sansa flinched at her words causing the queen to turn to her smiling much softer. “Especially when she has her own real-life fairy tale. You are going to be a Princess !”

“It’s not that unrealistic!” Arya stepped in again. “Margaery is marrying her soul mate, and our parents are soulmates!”

The queen gave a harsh laugh. “Let me guess you think some massive cow will come sweep you off your feet someday.”

Arya recoiled as the word hit home. Although her face remained strong and blank, her head held high; she pressed in beside Margaery as if needing protection. Margaery could have sworn she heard her mutter “He’s a bull.”

“Well,” The queen said sitting back in her chair smugly. It was clear that she had won this interaction, but the pleasant mood had been crumbled. “Lady Tyrell I am sure you must be so terribly busy with all your last minute planning. I'm sure this tea must be using up all of your precious time. Take little Arya with you. I’m sure she’d rather be there."

Understanding the dismissal, she curtsied politely. She gave Sansa a sympathetic glance before turning to leave hearing the queen add. "Plus Sansa and I still have her nuptials to plan.”

Leaving through the doorway, they had entered only minutes before. They walked in silence and shock for a little while. Arya was more stomping then walking when she finally snapped. “I don’t even care about soulmates. It is unrealistic and stupid. Sansa can marry whoever she wants.”

“Then why are you angry?” Margaery sighed while attempting to stretch the stress out of her neck.

“It doesn't matter that the prince is not her soul mate." She grumbled words flashing with anger. "But he is not a soul mate. He is a soulless abusive monster, and she’s ... not .”

“Remember what I said about surrounding yourself with trustful people? I shouldn’t be saying this or anything But, Well, it seems like Sansa is not doing that for herself. So we will have to do it for her."

They fell back into silence again. Finally, Margaery realized at this moment she needed to be the mentee and not the mentor. "Arya hun, I am going to go to talk to my grandmother for a little while. Why don’t you see if you can spend some time with Nymeria or Jon.”

“Yea.” Arya said suddenly seaming a little lighter “I will see if I can find Jon.


	13. The Meeting

‘I’m going to find Jon’ Arya whispered in a sing-songy voice while wearing a gleeful smirk. She knew Margaery was unaware that Jon’s plans for the day consisted of going into the road of steel once he was done with the seamstress but… Technically she had a elders permission to ‘find him’.

Arya changed quickly out of her dress and into a simple brown pair of trousers and matching shirt. Reaching into her trunk she pulled out a small bag of coins she had earned over the years and attached it to her hip. She visited Nymeria and the other direwolves before making her way to the tunnel under that red keep that Bran and she had discovered a couple days before.

Kings landing was so much more colorful than Winterfell but also so much more confusing to get around. She attempted to approach many individuals for directions, most wore clothing styles she had never seen before. Some people just brushed her off and other merely spouted words in languages she didn’t recognize.  But eventually, she found her way to the Road of Steel.

Once she was there she found herself unsure of what to do next. She had wandered up and down the road surveying all the different shops coming to the conclusion she somehow must have beat Jon there. Biting her lip she wondered where she should wait for him. In an easily visible place would be best for him to notice her but then again she also was receiving some shady looks from different store owners. Deciding to make herself less conspicuous for now she positioned herself in a tight corner that displayed longswords. She was mostly out of sight.

 Mostly.

 Although she didn't know where from Arya could still feel someone's eyes on her. Trying to play it off as interest in one of the swords edges she cautiously looked over her shoulder meeting the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

 Arya’s hands which had been intensely kneading at each other fell limply at her side. Her chest tightening and breath hitched. He blinked at her a few times as if confused by her. His arms were visibly strong even underneath his sloppily sewn on sleeves but despite their strength they also fell to his sides limply, almost dropping his hammer. Everything seemed to go silent for a moment as though all the hammers and voices of the street had gone. She would swear the only sound she could hear was the sound of his breathing.

What?! That didn't make any sense. It was clearly just her own breathing. Right? That made sense. Wait? No. It still didn’t.

She forced herself to look down at her feet. Her heartbeat picked up suddenly her breath speeding unable to catch itself. She didn’t understand what her body was doing. It seemed as though all the sounds she hadn't heard before came crashing down on her making her feel panicked. Two thoughts continued to loop in her mind. “I feel confused. I want to leave. I feel confused. I want to leave…”

Keeping her eyes trained directly on the ground she made to leave. Taking a few steps away only to have a hand come tightly down on her shoulder. A large boy jerked her back sharply. “We don’t let beggar boys stay around here”

 “I’m not a beggar.” She clawed at his fingers attempting to pull them from her shoulder but he merely gripped tighter.

 “So boy, you’re saying you’re a thief.” He snarled. Leaning in towards her he was uncomfortably close giving no respect to her personal space. It didn’t help his face was covered in terrible acne and he wreaked horribly.

“No, I’m not!  And I’m not a boy. Let go of me!” She yanked on him again but this time he dug his nails into her arm.

 “Is there a reason you’re harassing my client, Haymish?” A calm voice cut in between them. The grotesque boy backed slightly away from her but didn’t let go. Being held where she was she couldn’t see the individual that had come to her rescue. It didn’t matter though. Tucking her chin to her chest she knew it was the blue-eyed, black-haired boy with the strong jawline. Him.

“Your client Gendry? Yeah right! Never knew you to protect the street creetains.”

 “How would you react if I said that about _your_ clients Haymish? Let alone in front of one? Let go now!”

“Fine take him. Make sure if he goes pilfering he doesn’t touch any of my master's pieces.” Her shoulder was released and Haymish stomped away. But the blue-eyed boy had walked around her standing slightly in front of her.  She didn't look up keeping her eyes trained on her little square of ground. In which his feet had gotten frustratingly in the way.

“I’m not a boy.” She muttered. ‘Stupid. Why say anything. Why couldn’t she shut up.’’

“Yeah, You’re definitely a girl. You must be Jon’s frustrating little sister.”

 “You know Jon?” Surprised at her brothers name her eyes flicked up meeting his. Again her chest tightened and again he blinked as if confused by her.

 “Yeah” He stuttered slightly. “Uhm Yeah. He’s my client. I assume you're here for his appointment?...Right?”

 “Of Course.” She answered without hesitation.

 “He has no clue you're here, does he? That’s why he’s not with you now.”

 She faltered for a second putting on a shocked expression as if she was bamboozled by his words but decided if he knew so much about her and Jon maybe it was worth telling the truth. “Yep. He’s got no idea.”

 “Well, he is already late. Come wait with me, I have work to do and you’re clearly still making some merchants uncomfortable.” He started walking back to his work area before he had even finished speaking.

 “I didn’t do anything?” she grumbled having to move quickly taking three steps for every one of his.

 “You’re wearing clothing that, clearly, is not sized for you. Making everyone suspect they are probably stolen. You visibly scooped the area out but then decided you to hide, and not well. You look suspicious!” He said matter-a-factly as he set back up his working space.

 “Oh, And how did you notice that?” She questioned starting to look around his area as he got back to heating up a shot chuck of steel.

He rolled his eyes not looking up from his work “I don’t know how Snows live in the north but here we Waters learn how to walk without being seen. You walked down the street like you owned the place. Plus…”

He faltered at that and she looked back at him from the dagger that had taken her attention to notice that he was ... _blushing_? No what was she thinking he was standing in front of an anvil. He was warm.  “... I don’t know there was something about you. It wasn’t until Haymish got all up in your face and you looked so uncomfortable I realized it was Jon that you looked so much like”

“Yeah. Jon always does look kind of uncomfortable doesn’t he?” that comment made him stop his hammer stop mid-swing.

 “That is what you took out of everything I just said.”

 “Did you say something else?” She smiled to herself making a point to be studying the dagger as she spoke in an overly innocent voice. He chuckled at her and they fell into silence save for him muttering ‘Cheeky’ at her. After that, he went back to his sword and her to looking around. She was in awe of the different style of the weapons. Daggers, Swords, Shields of all varieties, and helmets. Eventually one caught her attention.

 “Hey that helmet, the animal one.” She started staring down the horned headgear. “Who ordered that?”

 She could see him looking back and forth between her and the helmet out of the corner of her eye.“It's a bull.”

 Rolling her eyes she huffed at him. “I know its a bull stupid. I am not blind. I asked who it is for.”

“It’s not for anyone…” he hesitated sounding slightly defensive. “It’s mine. It’s for me.”

 “Why a bull?” her voice came out light a nonchalant but she knew her hands had started wringing each other of their own accord again.

 “People always called me bull-headed. It just fit.” he said walking into her view as he dunked the sword into a bucket of water. “Why do you ask?” 

For the third time in the short span of time they had known each other the two ended up looking into the other one's eyes as he waited for her to answer. And again it seemed like the world stopped moving around them staying still for their benefit. But also again the world started closing in on her chest cutting off her air. Only now she thought she might know the reason why. Maybe. Possibly. Probably not. Either way, it didn’t make her any more comfortable.

 “Arya!” Both of the pair jolted at the harsh voice that came from the door behind them.

 “Lord Wells.” she stuttered looking into the man's scowling face. Quickly glancing back at gendry she saw his casual stance had been replaced by stiffness his eyes ‘respectfully’ placed on the ground.

“What are you doing here? The whole castle is up in arms looking for you.” Wells’ arms were crossed over his chest and he was clearly fuming.

“Why? I’ve only been gone for a few hours.”

 “A few hours huh?” He said in a sarcastically pleasant voice. “To bad that is long enough for your father to notice and then check in with all your siblings. Not a one of them knowing where you’d gone.”

 “I was waiting for Jon.” She shot at him. Unhappy with how he was talking down to her.

 “Too bad Jon is busy at the castle bloody looking for you!” He stomped over gripping her by the shoulders and starting to walk her out of the shop. “I’m only here to tell the store cleric Jon’s busy now, thanks to you, so he not coming. Can you pass that along for me boy?”

Gendry nodded giving a gracious nod. “Of course M’Lord.”

“Good I gotta get the little she-wolf back to her father.”

Gendry’s expression went slightly blank as he murmured She-wolf to himself. His blue eyes seeming even brighter with the colour drained from his face. She only had seconds to catch his expression before she was marched from the store thrown up onto a horse and taken back to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY MADE IT TO THE MEETING THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CHAPTER 3!  
> This took a long time to write and I'm am sorry about that but I swear the chapter was fighting me as I tried to get in down. It's also is slightly abrupt but thems the breaks.
> 
> Feel free to make spelling or grammar edits I encourage it.


	14. Olenna

Olenna had always found Sept weddings to be **dull** affairs. Even during her own wedding, she had struggled to remain focused on the ceremony. Though that was many years ago now. The droning of the officiator seemed still more boring and more interminable when in the great sept but at least the ornate decorative building and lavish costumes of the guests gave her something to distract herself. Margaery stole the show aesthetically. Her dress a beautiful pale green gown with crystal beads starting at the hem of her skirt fading out up to her hips and her hair was pulled up on the sides allowing her dark curls to cascade down her back. Robb was kneeling at her side his hand supporting hers as they had been tied together by the silk cloth. He had chosen perfect length in trimming his beard. Long enough to state his adult masculinity but short enough to emphasize his strong jawline.

Their combined beauty made the idea of ugly children seem impossible. But, Olenna looked over at her own frumpy offspring sitting at her side, attractive parents do not guarantee beautiful children. Mace was being dragged into the lull of sleep his head slowly falling to his chest emphasizing his double chin. Giving him a quick elbow to wake him her eyes continued down her family line up. Mase’s wife and each of his sons was dressed impeccably with convincing faces of false interest in the sermon. Loras sat at the end with Renly Baratheon pressed up against him running a hand along his knee. Not the most aware those two. Couldn’t even pretend they were not screwing each other at a sept wedding.

Turning her head to look the other way she addressed the Stark family from across the aisle. Ned Stark had a stoic unreadable face the way only Ned Stark could. The redheaded girl looked elated as though she was enthralled by the ceremony or at least her own internal musings on the service. The boy was shifting uncomfortably glancing up at his father, clearly struggling with having to sit for so long. The brunette girl -- now that was interesting -- she was staring off into the hall as if she could see nothing at all. Her face was blank of emotion, no thought showing passed her mask. She would have thought the girl to merely be as unflappable as her father if not for the fact that she already knew the child to be incredibly emotive and quickly wound up.

After the service had ended and everyone had made their way to the great hall Olenna kept an eye on the little northern child. She had been seated at the head table and had remained there through the dinner, the dancing, and all of the different wedding traditions. She stayed there long after her siblings had scattered amongst the other guests to enjoy the celebration.

Olenna gave a quick glance for her closest grandchild. “Loras” She gave her grandson one impatient flick of her hand summoning him over.

Loras dropped his glade into Renly’s hand, and he came quickly to squat at her side. She had trained them all so well. “Yes Grandma”

“The darker Stark girl seems out of it. How long has she been that way?” She asked keeping her eyes trained on the girl.

“Since her trip into town yesterday evening.” His eyes traveled back into his head as he spoke attempting to pull forward all relevant information. “Word is that she was at the smithing section.”

“Who accompanied her?

“No one. She snuck out of the red keep, and a Stark Bannerman found her there and brought her home.”

“Intriguing.” She hummed. Eventually, she gave him a quick pat on his hand. “Thank you, Loras. Enjoy the party.”

He returned to the Baratheon boy, and she made her way down the table flopping down beside the girl. She reached out and snatched the dinner roll from the girl's untouched plate as though it was her for the taking. “What did you think about this morning? Did you enjoy the service?”

“Uhmm yes.” Arya blinked startled by her presence but answered correctly. She was now eyeing the roll that had been taken but did not mentioning it despite the fact that her hands twitch as if to steal it back. “It was long.”

“Hmmm, you noticed that did you?” Olenna asked over inflating her voice and popping a chunk of bread into her mouth.

Arya scowled at her, her eyes now full of suspicion as they tracked over her. “What do you mean?”

Olenna smirked giving a holier than thou shrug of her shoulders. “It just didn’t seem like you were paying attention.”

“Of course I was paying attention.” She huffed puffing up her chest in defiance.

“My mistake. I know I would have had trouble focusing if I had gone through _such_ an experience the night before. What a _dreadful_ man!”

“He wasn’t dreadful. He was kind and helpful.” The girl snapped her chest still puffed, but her eyes were glassing over as if she again was somewhere else. Perfect.

“Will you chose to see him again?”

“No… I don’t know. He’s probably not even important. Plus I do not care, but I hate that station means he won’t come to me."

“But what if he is important?” She prodded again curious to see how fair the emotional spewing could take them.

“He’s not I mean I know he’s not. It’s only because people call him ‘The Bull.’ and that is…” Her shoulders stiffened suddenly, and her jaw visibly clamped shut. It was evident by the bulging of her eyes that she knew she had been played.

Know she wouldn’t get another word out of the girl Olenna bobbed her eyebrows coyly at her and took another bite of bread. She was sure the girl was going to storm off when her younger brother came up behind her.

“Arya. It’s almost time.” Once she heard this, the girl harshly turned her back on her and took off without a word.

Again she tracked the girl with her eyes and found her gathered with the other Stark children, the Snow, and Olenna’s own grandchildren. They only spoke briefly before they all dispersed to different parts of the hall.

She saw that Loras and Garlan had both brought large groups of rowdy knights to the very back of the room for drinking games. The red-headed girl had approached the king and queen, but the rest of them seemed to aimlessly standing about until she heard the king yell out “Time for the bedding ceremony.”

As the large-bellied king ran towards Margaery, he tripped over Willas’ unfortunately placed cane flopping on his belly as a stooge might. The heir to the Iron Islands, who had been eyeing Maergery all night, found he suddenly had the youngest stark wrapped around both of his legs toppling him as well. During this time the Snow boy had scooped Margaery up before anyone could reach her and ran with her from the hall. Most of the knights were too far back with Loras and Garlan to catch up, and any who had been closer was stopped by the sudden toppling of a load of stools falling into their path had been precariously stacked at the exit. The dark-haired stark girl stood beside them looking very pleased. After the Ladies had carried Robb from the hall Olenna’s eyes fell on Garlan and with a flick of the wrist she summoned him over.

“Yes Grandma,” he said flopping into the girls vacated chair.

“And what was that?”

“Arya promised Maergery she wouldn’t have to do bedding. Determined little tike. She had us all very well organized actually. Everyone knew their place.”

“But she didn’t help her brother?”

Garland laughed. “I don’t think he brought it up or I bet she would have.”

The fell silent for a couple of minutes Garlan nursing a mead he had been unable to fully enjoy earlier in the evening. Breaking the silence, Olenna asked. “Any new leads on Willas’s Mark? Or has Loras received his?”

“Not unless they got them during the wedding survive? Why?”

“I’ve grown bored. Tomorrow I want you to go to the smithies and find the boy that’s called ‘the bull.’ Order— I don’t know — a breastplate from him and make sure he delivers it to the castle. It has to be him.”

“I don’t need a new breastplate.”

“Yes dear but this has nothing to do with you.”


	15. Jon Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone wants to talk to Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always sorry about the time this took but damn it's like this chapter wanted to be a million words long. I could NOT get it to go where I wanted it to be going. Hope you enjoy.

Despite being on a much lower level of the Red Keep then the rest of his family the bed in Jon’s room was plush and comfortable. Seemingly even more so after the late wedding party the night before. He had no plans on moving any time soon when a familiar intruder barged into his room.

“Your absence has been noticed,” Bran complained while giving Jon's arm a shake to wake up.

“Absence where?” Jon groaned rolling onto his side to face his brother. He noticed just a slight throbbing in his temples from the past nights drinking.

“At the family breakfast.” Bran started with a note of authority that was undercut by him wiggling his bottom in to sit next to Jon on the bed.

He sighed scooching back to make room for the little body while patting Bran’s arm. “Buddy. The family breakfast is for the Starks and the Tyrells. I am neither so I can’t go.”

Jon attempted to burrow his face back into his pillow as he thought that was the end of the conversation but Bran just shook him again. “It was the Tyrells that noticed you were missing. That's why father sent me to come to get you.”

_“Really?”_ he said into his pillow eyes still closed and his voice dripping skepticism. “Father sent you to bring me to the family breakfast.”

“I may have volunteered.” Bran started but cracked as Jon opened one eye to look at him. “Fine I snuck out, but I had to. Please come. Sansa is all mushy, and Arya is super cranky.”

“Sorry, Bud that just not how things work around here,” he said once again patting his brother’s little shoulder. Jon was about to completely turn his back on him and see if he was still able to get back into his deep sleep when someone else blundered into the doorway.

Garlan appeared slightly out of breath in his well-pressed stylish outfit.“Oh hey, there you are. Your space is, actually, super hard to find.”

“Hello, Garlan,” Jon said properly. Quickly lifting himself up onto one elbow. He was now uncomfortably aware of his own state of undress. Having merely tossed his tunic on the floor after the party before flopping into bed.“How can I help you?”

“Right, right” Garlan nodded awkwardly patting a rhythm on his thighs. “You know, I was just wondering when you're going to make it to breakfast.”

“I’m not…” Jon frowned. “I’m not invited.”

“Sure you are!” Garlan scoffed “You are a Stark in every way but name! Everyone here knows that.”

“Sure.” Jon groaned flopping down onto his back. “Try and tell Lady Stark that.”

“Oh come on Jon it’s not like she is even going to be there. Plus Willas and your dad are talking about finances, Loras is regaling your sister with talks of his heroics, and seeing as Robb and Rosie are busy …” he stepped forward cupping his hands over Bran’s ears. “Making the beast with two backs … I am all alone up there with no other semi-adults to talk to.”

Jon was about to respectfully decline again when Garlan followed up his speech by just repeating ‘please’ over and over as fast as he could.

Jon snapped. “Seven Hells! You're worse than the 9-year-old.”

That was the most brazenly rude Jon had ever been to someone who was so clearly above his standings, but Garlan merely responded with a laugh and excited outburst. “Good so we agree you are coming. Come on little lordling we will wait for him in the other room while he changes.”

The two lord’s quickly sons left the room after that. Jon could have attempted rolling over at that point, but he knew they both be back if he tried. Pulling on a new shirt, Jon began to think over how he could have possibly lost that argument. As he came out into the hallway, he heard Bran asking Garlan “Isn't your wife also at breakfast?”

“Yeah, but she can’t put up with me _all_ the time. I mean no one could.” Garlan laughed with a goofy slightly lopsided smile.

They made their way to the dining room that had been prepared for the two families. Individuals mulled about the small dining-hall as breakfast had yet to be served. A few people glanced up as they entered, but Lord stark was the only one who acknowledged their entrance with a quick nod. Sansa and Loras were seated at the table side by side deep in conversation. Two seats down from them Arya was staring off into the distance her arms wrapped protectively around herself her hands resting on her shoulders.

The small group moved to the table Bran filling in the space between Loras and Arya as Garland and himself sat across from them. Loras smiled looking around the table. “Anyone doing anything interesting today?”

“The Queen has invited me to tea with her and the princess this afternoon.” Sansa smiled bouncing forward in her seat to share her news.

“He said something interesting.” Arya jibed at her sister. Jon attempted to give her a cautionary glance, but her gaze was wandering uncaring about the room.

“I’m going into town today city after breakfast,” Garlan started pouring himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table.

“Same,” Jon responded. Not entirely sure if he should be speaking or not. This whole situation fell outside of his usual realm of normal.

“Oh, Fantastic.” Garlan smiled at him reaching over to fill his glass as well. “Maybe we can ride in together. Always nice to have some company.”

Before Jon could give heads or tails to Garlan’s offer, Loras cut in with a very deadpan voice directed at his brother. “Going into the city, are you? Have you told your wife about that? Made sure you didn’t already have other plans, did you?”

Garlan glared at his brother but leaned back in his chair pushing the front legs off the floor as he projected his voice over to his wife. “Hey, Lovebug. We don’t have any plans after breakfast do we?”

“Lunch with the Greenwoods. We’ve been planning this lunch for three moons. **No** , you can't miss it.”

Garlan hummed disappointed at that his chair falling back onto all four feet again with a dull thump. He turned to Jon. “Maybe we can meet up in town later.”

“Well,” Loras offered to the group as he gestured to Bran. “The little lord here and I are going into the Training yard this afternoon. Robb has asked me to look out for him. He said Prince Joffrey was giving you a hard time last time you were out there isn’t that right.”

That sparked Jon’s attention as well as both of his sisters who sat little straighter to look to their brother for confirmation. Sansa appeared as confused as she is worried while Arya seems instantly enraged. Bran just looked down at the table embarrassed. He mumbled something about ‘A little bit.’ All the energy of the boy who had been bouncing on Jon’s bed earlier now gone.

“Oh don’t bother being embarrassed,” Loras said clapping him on the back. “He’s older and taller than you. When you’re a big, broad knight, he won’t even think about messing with you.”

Bran sat slightly straighter at that idea, but Jon was still perturbed. How much had the prince been picking on his little brother? He was considering putting off his plans for the day so that he could also keep an eye on him.

Then Loras added “Plus the prince just has a wounded pride because you gave him that black eye.” and Arya snapped.

“Bran didn’t give him a black eye! **I did.** And if the prince has any issues, he can take it up with me and maybe I’ll give him another and a missing tooth. You tell him that Bran.”

“You will not Brandon.” Sansa lashed out smacking both palms flat onto the table in front of her.

“It’s alright...” Jon attempted to step in only to have Sansa steamroll over his words.

“Arya why do you have to be like this?” Sansa spewed her voice give a frantic crack. "I will not have you messing up my betrothal.”

“A betrothal?” Each of the young individuals sitting at the table jumped as Ned Stark’s voice coed in quiet surprise from right behind them. Unnoticed to the Lord’s children, the trays of breakfast food had arrived into the dining room. Lord Stark like the rest of the family was coming to take his seat when he overheard their conversation.

“Uh yes” Sansa stuttered looking up at her father. “The betrothal conversations between the crown and you about the prince and I.”

Their father blinked face unchanged at her statement, and each of the stark children could recognize what that reaction from their father meant. He didn’t know what Sansa was talking about.

He reached out with a kind smile and a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. “Why don’t we talk about this later.”

He continued along the table to an open seat leaving Sansa with her mouth hanging open. Before anyone could think of something comforting to say Sansa claimed to no longer feel hungry and excused herself from the table quickly fleeing the room.

Stumped for how to continue they all sat in silence stunning trays of steaming food being placed in front of them. Final Arya scooched forward in her seat stabbing a chicken's thigh onto her fork. “We’ll tell Margaery about Sansa once her and Robb are out in public again. I am sure she can fix it.”

They all nodded at that and continued with breakfast. Before long the excellent food and pleasant company washed away any discomfort and gave way to good jokes and laughter. Near the end of the meal when everyone was packing up Garlan’s wife came to collect him, so Loras volunteered to do his brother's errands in town after making sure that Bran was okay to put off his Yard time for a couple of hours. Jon was about to leave for the city himself when his father called him back.

Once everyone else had gone on their way lord stark started. “I’ve made a request of the King for us all to return north.”

A light jolt of surprise went through Jon. “So Soon.”

“You don't know King Robert son. I will have to ask persistently if we ever have a hope of going home.” He groaned hauling a heavy book up from where he had stored it under the dining table. Jon reached out to help him with it reading the title. “The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms”

“Robert has denied my request.” Lord Stark continued. Adding ‘Unsurprisingly’ under his breath. “But he is allowing for a small party to go ahead to help ‘prepare.’ There are so many celebrations here in kings landing; I assume he thinks the north will be having a festival for our return.”

The idea made Jon smile. The last true celebration Winterfell hosted before Robb’s wedding had been for Rickons birth. His father continued. “I’d like you to represent me in the traveling party.”

“Me?” Jon bucked taken entirely off guard.

“Yes. Lord Wells will be leading the group he has the geographical knowledge. I would like you to be there to be the... authority in case of any... altercation.”

Jon nodded but his brow furrowed. “Are you sure I am the best person for this. Would this not be a job better suited to a Lord with some born authority.

“Unfortunately not. Giving this job to one of the lords means if there are any altercations there is always room for favoritism or just claims of favoritism between houses. You being my blood removes this issue.”

Jon's head continued to bob as he bit his lip in thought. “When will we be leaving?”

“Two nights time,” he answered making Jon cringe.

His father frowned at that. “I am so sorry that disappoints you. I hadn’t thought you’d grown so attached to the capital.”

“Oh, I haven't.” Jon jumped in to explain. “I’ve just put a deposit down on a sword thinking that I was staying for longer. I am supposed to be looking prototypes this afternoon.”

His father hummed in understanding at that. “Well go on down to see the prototypes today. Choose what you’d like and have them deliver it to the castle. I’ll make sure it arrives in Winterfell.”

After they had finished up the plans, Lord Stark explained his need to meet up with Lord Arryn, and they both continued on their separate ways. Jon felt a swell of pride that his father had enough faith in him to complete this task. Yet, that small nagging part of him that always tore at his confidence kept creeping up to say it felt as though he was being sent away as fast as possible. Before long lost in his conflicting thoughts Jon had reached the street of steel and made his way into the store.

“Jon!” He turned at the voice expecting to find Gendry only to be shocked at Loras’ presence in the little store. “I should have known you were coming here as well. As soon as Garlan told me grandma-ma was soulmate hunting for the little she-wolf, I should have known your family would be ten steps ahead.”

‘ _Soulmate_ ’ the word continued around and around in Jon brain unable to be comprehended. _Soulmate? Arya? Here?_ The meanings all seemed utterly lost to him.

Loras continued with a flip of his hair. “Have you already made an order with the bull? I’ve just made mine. His master has agreed to have The Bull man bring several breastplates up to the castle for several different lords to look over. Isn’t that perfect? The hope is we get little Arya to happen across this party and then block them in a room together to talk.

“Snow.” Jon’s attention was pulled again this time to Gendry who had just reappeared from a hidden part at the back of the store with a breastplate in each hand. Jon wasn’t sure if the correct term was poetically or ironically but mounted behind Gendry on the wall was a helmet with bulls horns protruding from it. “I am so glad you're here. I know you were coming to look at examples but I’ve finished a sword I think might be perfect.”

“Finished?” Jon breathed the word falling from his mouth with no control.

“Yes,” Gendry looked to Loras who gestured that he was fine if Gendry dealt with Jon first. Placing down the breastplates, Gendry stepped back behind his workspace to lift up a tiny delicately wrapped package. “After your sister stopped by, these thoughts of what build of a sword would be right for her got stuck in my head. I made this one with a mix of traditional and bravossi styles. Now if you don’t like it structurally or ascetically, I’ll still be making whatever it is you do want. I just wanted to show you this one, first.”

Jon walked up to see the blade and Loras wandered up beside him peeking over his shoulder. The blade was beautiful and slight with a subtle tapering to the tip and a curled rounded grip made for delicate, skinny fingers. But, the part that made Jon’s breath stop was the wolf’s head that sat on the hilt shining in the same perfect silver colour of the blade. The hilt was so small two could fit on Jon’s palm, but something in him knew it was Nymeria. Looking up slightly he noticed Gendry’s hands were terribly burned and cut more so than they had been the other times they’d met.

“It’s perfect.” Loras gasped before laughing. “It looks like you were thinking about the little spit fire every second you were making this.

Jon looked Gendry full in the face at that point to find him flushing. Jon needed no more confirmation that Loras was right.

“Jon?” For the third time in what felt like seconds, Jon turned to see who was calling him. He found his father standing in the walkway into the shop with Lord Arryn at his side. His father had a good-natured grin on his face until he got a good look at Jon and it fell into a look of concern. “Are you feeling alright you look rather pale?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any notes for this chapter spelling, grammar, please let me know.  
> In a little bonus I did have to cut a chuck of the story that was about soul marks due to length issues. So since that was the whole reason I started writing this story I thought I'd add it here in the ending notes its from when Jon, Bran and Garlan first arrive at breackfast. I hope you enjoy. (just remember arya's hands are resting on her shoulders)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> While Garlan was taking his seat, he pointed to Arya’s hands asking. “Sending your mate some warmth?”
> 
> “What?” she scowled at him her arms fall into the normal position crossed over her chest.
> 
> “You know the temperature feelings you can get through your mark.” Garlan looked around the table for support only finding looks of confusion from the stark children and his brother rolling his eyes. “oh come on. How could you not know? Here watch”
> 
> Garlan turned away from them; he pointed his wife out to his perplexed audience. She had her back to them and was chatting with Lady Tyrell on the other side of the room. Garlan then proceeded to roll up his sleeve revealing the outline of two hands with interlocked pinkies outlined on his wrist and begin to blow lightly on it. Seconds later a visible shiver went through the women who was standing so far from them. She subconsciously held her fully clothed arm to her stomach for warmth.
> 
> Within seconds she appeared to understand what had caused her the discomfort as she turned, sharply glaring at her husband snapping. “Stop it.”
> 
> “Sorry lemon tart,” Garlan responded in an overly sappy voice. “Just wanted to show the Starks how it works.”
> 
> She let out a hum of annoyance, and he turned back to face them. “See temperature sensing stuff. But I guess it would be hard for you northerners to notice. You’re wrapped in fifty layers, and you’re still cold.”


	16. Multi PV

####  **Bran**

Bran had always wanted to be a knight. It had always seemed to be such a dignified way of life. The glory of being a knight in shining silver armour aloft a horse saving pretty ladies. Upon meeting Loras, the man had quickly become his hero. Loras had the grace and oneness with his horse that Bran had always imagined in a southern knight.

But now hidden behind a rack of swords watching all of the southern nights practicing there didn’t seem to be any dignity to any of it. The men were all dirty and sweaty with nasty snarls on their faces. They would swear and curse at each other angrily grabbing at their genitals when they were displeased.

They hadn’t seemed so scary when Robb had been here with him. His brother had taken him over to the archery station letting him take his time. A couple of the other northern men who were also training even cheered when he had hit the target.

Whereas last time he had walked in with his head held high now, he was hiding like a rabbit in the woods crouching low and hoping not to be seen. And he knew he wasn’t genuinely succeeding. His rabbit counterpart would have been eaten by now as several different knights were looking over at the rack with a level of bemusement. Maybe he should find Arya she might be up to something interesting. Loras would find him when he got back.

Slowly inching over to the doorway Bran had almost escaped when a large hand fell onto his shoulder, and a coarse croak said. “The Prince wants to speak with you little pup.”

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_

####  **Eddard**

Jon Arryn hadn’t told Eddard where they were going until they had almost arrived. And now everything he had learned weighed on him like the world itself was resting on his shoulders. Jon’s words went around and around in his head.

_“I can’t prove that Cersei cheated Eddard. But of Roberts 17 bastards 17 of them have Baratheon black hair.”_

The two parties were riding back to the castle now. Jon Arryn and Loras led their party with Gendry and his pack mule wandering behind them. Gendry hadn't wanted to leave the forge, but with the amount of money Loras had dangled in front of his master, the boy didn’t honestly have a choice. So now he walked beside his masters Donkey that was ladened with chest-plates and other metal pieces. Ned wondered if the boy ever even considered riding the animal, but seeing as Gendry wouldn’t dare meet his eyes until it was requested of him, he guessed the apprentice didn’t think it was his place.

Eddard and his Jon brought up the back of the group. His boy’s face still seemed so gaunt that as they grew close to the castle, he had slowed them down until they could talk privately. “Jon, talk to me lad. Are you all right?”

Jon looked up at him and then his eyes travelled back to Gendry before taking a deep breath. “Do you know? About Gendry?”

He sighed looking to the back of the boy whose physic was identical to a youthful Robert. “Jon Arryn told me this morning. How did you know?”

“Loras told me just before you arrived. But honestly, I’ve met with him so many times, and at this point, I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out for myself… or at least suspect something.” He pulled his hand over his face with an exhausted groan.

“Don’t worry about it, Jon. There is no real reason it should have even passed your mind.”

“I know, But what are you gonna do about it?” Jon turned to him his big grey eyes looking at him almost desperately.

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows creased suddenly feeling lost.

“Well, Are we going to take him home to Winterfell when we leave?” He said seeming helpless.

“Uhm No. Jon Arryn made an offhand statement about possibly sending him to Storm’s End, but most likely he will stay exactly where he is.”

Jon’s horse stopped dead at that his face racked with panic as he fumbled for words. Ned had to turn his horse full around to keep facing him. ”But what about Arya? She is still so young! Do you plan to send her by herself across all the seven kingdoms? Or are you just going to keep her totally separate from him until she's old enough?”

“Arya? What does Arya have to do with anything?” Ned sat back on his saddle and crossed his arms over his chest while cocking his head in suspicion. “Jon, what are you talking about?”

All of the emotion that had been emanating from Jon’s face suddenly sucked in to complete blankness. Ned also noticed his hand grip a thin package that was strapped to his side saddle before asking. “What… what are **_you_ ** talking about?”

Their conversation was cut short as an angered scream ripped through the air. Turning around Eddard looked around frantically attempting to find where it had come from. Ned’s gazes fell on Jon Arryn, and Loras’s both aloft their horses faces stunned with fearful eyes locked on something Ned didn’t see. Behind them, Gendry’s mule had been abandoned. His gaze search wildly for him until he saw the boy sprinting crazily towards the castle wall. Jon’s voice cut in. “Seven Hells someones falling.”

From a lower tower window, a body was falling. Gendry was running for them and leaping to clear a waist high as he sprinted, but Ned wasn’t sure he would make it. And they were falling from such a hight he didn’t know if it would matter.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+__

####  **Bran**

The Hound dragged him by the collar his feet barely scuffing the floor. Bran had asked him desperately where they were going, but the man didn’t even bother to recognize he was speaking. They travelled up staircase after staircase and as they got farther away from the training yard the hope that someone would see him and save him from this giant man waned away to nothing.

Walking into the watch post's room, Clegane dropped him onto the floor. He quickly propped himself up onto an elbow. Looking around in a frenzy he felt as though his whole body was shaking. The prince was in front of him with his back to him as he stared out the watch post window. The Hound moved to stand beside the prince picking at his nails uninterested as he leaned on the wall.

“Welcome to the watch room, _Lord_ _Stark_.” The prince sneered the title with false respect not bothering to turn from the window. Most windows on this outer wall of the castle were open slits, inches thick meant merely to let air into the room while still block the rain from pouring in. But this one was designed to be wider and taller than an average man so that any knight standing in front of it could be fully seen. Allowing them to strike fear and respect into the everyday passersby out in front of the castle.

“Such a shame you and I started off on the wrong foot wouldn’t you say, _My Lord_?” He still did not turn from the window. Bran suspected that he thought it made him look powerful, but in truth the large scope of the window just made him look small and sinewy. “And it's almost been like your brother, and the Tyrell boys wouldn’t let us have a moment alone to talk it out.”

Looking up at The Hound, Bran noted how he still didn’t feel alone with the prince. Working up onto his knees Bran remained silent. Staying on the ground felt odd, but he also felt that standing could be dangerous for him.

Hearing him move Joffrey turned to look at him his eyes glinting with a crazed smile. “I hear you want to be a knight _My Lord_.”

Bran remained silent but nodded at the statement.

“Did you know that once I am King, it will be part of my duties to assign knighthoods? Did you know I will be able to choose whichever lord's second sons I want to give knighthoods to?”

Again he nodded.

“But I bet you don’t know my favourite part of the knighting ceremony? Well, not the actual ceremony that is incredibly dull but the ... indoctrination period to being the new Knight in the castle.” his voice had gotten low and threatening, and his upper lip curled up in a snarl as he looked down on Bran. “My favourite part is when they hang the new knights out the watch room window. Show him what it’s like to be a knight Hound.”

Scrambling Bran attempted for the door, but The Hound had him in seconds. Passing him between hands, The Hound took a tight grip of Bran’s shirt and with it held Bran aloft outside the window. Bran squirmed and writhed reaching for the window cill that was inches too far for him to reach until The Hound quietly spoke. “You’ll be safer if you hold still. Trust me boy a lot weaker than me have held a lot heavier than you out this window.”

Bran did as he was told stilling while also taking a tight hold of the chain mail that rest down to the man’s wrist. His feet still twitching in panic with nothing beneath them. Joffrey laughed smiling broadly at the fear on his face. “Now you see the reason they do this is to see it the new knight vomits, pisses or shits himself. That way they know how brave the knight truly is and what duties he is worthy of. My bet is you’ll do all three.”

He paused for a moment his smile twisting to seem even more sadistic. “It’s more fun when they hold them by their feet, so the piss drips down their faces,” Joffery said with crazed eyes stepping forward as if to grab whole of Bran’s dangling legs, but The Hound gently held him at bay.

“I’m sorry.” Bran whimpered still trying to take a more solid hold of the hound's arm. He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for, but he needed in off the ledge.

“Are you? Of course, you are.” Joffrey spat. “Pathetic.”

The prince rolled his eyes after that and turned his back on them seemingly no longer interested in the spectacle he had created. Once the blond child's back was turned the hound jerked him back into the room. Loosening his grip on him as he placed Bran’s feet onto the cill.

“What a coward. You couldn’t stand up for yourself if you had an army behind you. Stark the spineless”  Joffrey sighed. “Just like the rest of your family wimpish men being led around by women who have severed off their balls. Your faint-hearted brother can’t even think without his precious new wife’s permission the lily-livered wuss.”

Bran took a seat on the cill not truly trusting his legs. But his whole being felt stronger thinking of his family. His mind wiped away Joffrey’s blatant lies reminding him of how brave and dignified his father and brothers were. Noticing him again Joffrey huffed coming back from his tangent. “We won’t have any more issues will we My Lord?”

Bran shook his head hands gripping the stone wall giving him a little more strength. “I didn’t know we ever had any My Grace.”

Joffery gave a pompous smile before Bran continued. “But you should take your issues up with _Arya_ after she gave you that black-eye.”

Joffery eyes lit up with anger for a second almost warming Bran soul. “She wanted you to know she would be happy to give you another one plus a…”

But he didn’t get to finish. Joffrey ran forward letting out an enraged scream pushing Bran out the window. He didn’t even get a moment to register he was falling before his head crack off the stone wall, and the world went black.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_

####  **Jon**

Jon's eyes snapped to the watch window as soon as he heard the scream. He saw the blond hair and high red collar of the crown prince for a split second before his personal guard push him back reaching out the window for something that was already too far from reach.

Instantly he realized the small object spinning head over heels, smashing into the walls stones wall a body. Bile collected in his throat. “Seven Hells someones falling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo turns out I am the kind of writer that the leave people on a cliff hanger doesn't come back for months and writes another one. Man any one who is sticking with me deservers an icecream. Any critics Spelling, vocabulary, plot all greatly appreciated! (but like complements don't make me sad.) Hope you don't hate me and have a great night.
> 
>  
> 
> https://66.media.tumblr.com/efd33eeb4108871338c025ecf5cd3082/tumblr_pchfoxvCmO1sndlt4o1_1280.jpg


	17. Insult to Injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I made you wait months and now its only been five days but the keyboard wants to write when the Keyboard wants to write.

Gendry caught the falling figure but barely. They struck him in the chest sending searing pain through his chest into his abdomen. The pressure of the fall sent them both to the ground. The individual who fell was merely a child. Gendry knew now had they been full grown the weight of the impact may have killed him.

When the lords had gathered around them, yells of anger and despair were let out as they recognized the shirt the boy wore. They knew his clothing before his face as his face was badly bloodied from the fall. Along with the rest of his body that had scraped along different lumps and ledges of the walls as he spun towards the earth. They had quickly and carefully transported him to the Maester's chambers where the boy was taken into a back room. Nothing but a curtain hanging over the doorway separated the two rooms.

Several different Maesters, healing women and several general servants had been called to the room. Many arriving with fresh gauze and leaving with bloodied. Lord Stark attempted to stop a few to ask what was happening but pulled back when he realized they were hurrying off to get more supplies.

No one spoke in the makeshift waiting room. Lord Stark stood in front of the doorway staring straight into the sheet that separated them from the surgery blankly. The other two lords had respectfully taken a spot of the far side of the room leaving plenty of space for Jon Snow to pace steaming with anger. Gendry, who stood by the door to the hallway felt the adrenaline that he had felt since he ran for the body started to wain and the throbbing in his side intensify. He attempted to press his hand to it but that only made the pain worse causing him to wince.

“Gendry?” He looked up at Lord Arryn when he heard his name, but the act made him nauseous and dizzy forcing him to look back to his shoes. “Lad are you alright.”

“A little light headed.” He admitted.

“And your side?” Lord Stark’s blunt tone cut in. Seeing their feet, he could tell all the men were now watching him as he favourited his left side. Jon had even stopped his pacing to survey him. He cursed internally he couldn’t think clearly.

“I will probably see a Maester at some point.” Gendry finally answered interrupted when a high yell of pain ripped through the room from the other side of the curtain. “I’m not really that important at the moment.”

Moments after the yell. Several serving women came out from in behind the curtain hurrying but before they could leave Lord Stark stepped forward again. “Excuse me, ladies. I would like an update on my son. What is happening in there?”

All the women paused and looked to one in particular with a tight blond ponytail who stepped forward. “I don’t know if it is best for us to tell you, M’lord. So little is known as of this point. Perhaps you should wait for a Maester?” 

She had given him a rehearsed sweet smile, but the Lord's face hardened crossing his arms over his chest. “I am a northerner my lady I have taken part in the healing parties of many bear maulings. I know that at this point an assessment has been made. And that you and your comrades here would not have been called upon so quickly had you not known what was going on and how to help. I would like to know what is happening.”

She deflated a little biting her tongue as she searched for words until Lord stark informed her she need not attempt to spare him his stomach and to tell him the truth. “It is not a pleasant sight m’lord although I have no reason to believe the child won't survive this. All major treatments are done, and the Maesters are wrapping him now. You should know the boy does not have a limb without at least broken bone and he has some fairly suaver gashes. On the bright side, the boy has come in and out of consciousness so his body must have been able to maintain most of its blood through this event. However, he is currently unconscious the pain of us resetting his thigh bone back into his hip was too much for him. That’s all I can really say at the moment, M’Lord.”

“Thank you for everything My Lady.” Lord Stark nodded with a sigh his body seeming drained. “Oh, but before you go would you give a quick look over the blacksmith here. I worry he may have broken a rib catching my son.”

All the women paused again looking in between each other perplexed. They were all staring at Gendry as he whipped some sweat from his brow. He didn’t know why he was sweating when he felt so cold he might shiver. Again the leader of the little group spoke. “We thought the boy fell from the watch post window?”

“That's right.” Lord stark nodded.

“And someone caught him.” She gaucked quickly lifting her skirts as she marched over to where Gendry was using the wall for support. “Lift your shirt let me see your chest.”

Gendry attempted to do as he was instructed, but the pain of trying to pull the fabric up send stars through his vision. It didn’t matter as once she had reached him; she yanked his top up exposing a dark purple bruise under his ribs. “He is bleeding in.” she gasped.

Turning around she started barking orders. “Girls I need a clean knife, a hot stick and plenty of gauzes. Also some essence of nightshade. Hurry!”

“You two help me lay him on the ground.” she pointed to Jon and Loras once they had done, so she added. “Don’t go far I may need you to hold him down.”

Gendry lay stunned until the women attempted to cut his shirt up the middle. “No. I need this for work.” 

"Lad" Lord Arryn begged at him. "We will buy you new shirts. Listen to the women."

A piece of wood was placed between his teeth, and he heard her say 'hold him.' He bit down screaming inward as a slice went across his side. Rationality left him as the hot searing and smell of burning flesh entered his nose. Bucking and jerking he did his best to throw the men who held him off. The healing women yelled out. “Hold him! Where is Nadu with that Nightshade? He is going to kill himself.”

He also picked up the words ‘shouldn’t be here’ as he successfully threw the blonde one.  He kicked out at someone who got to close, but they ducked around and then... she was there. 

Her small grey eyes were right in front of his, and that was the only thing he could register other than her tiny hands that had cupped both sides of his face. Then slowly her voice got through to him.

“Look at me. Gendry! Look at me. You are safe.”

His body began to calm, and as he took her in. His breathing was starting to normalize when the searing came back, and he bucked again clamping his eyes shut. But she pressed her forehead to his so he couldn’t block her out and continued to speak. “Gendry you will make it through this. The pain is necessary. I am right here I am not going to leave. Gendry! You are going to be OK.”

“It’s done.” A voice said from what sounded to be on the other side of the world. No one else was there but Arya and him. “Just need to sew him up.”

"See you did it." Arya smiled at him pulling back slightly to whip some sweat from his face. 

As she did, he leaned forward quickly looking up at her and pressed his forehead back to hers before closing his eyes. With a barely audible whisp of a breath, he muttered: "Thank you."

"You can sleep now Gendry. I'll be here when you wake up." her hand was on the back of his head when everything went limp protecting him from hitting the ground. 

But as he fell into unconsciousness, he heard Jon Snow saying “That’s what I was talking about.”

 

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_

 

He didn’t know how long he had been asleep, but it was dark when he woke. A small part of him thought he was dead as he laid in a plush bed the likes of which he had never known.  Gendry looked around and saw several candles illuminating the room that held two people sleeping in chairs. One was a northern knight whose chair was back against the wall with his mouth gaping open and the other Arya whose chair was pulled right up beside his bed. She had her legs tucked up beneath her in a way Gendry could not believe was comfortable, and her hair was draped over her face like a drowned sewer rat. It made him smile to see her like that and decided not to wake her up. But him moving woke her up all on its own.

Palming her hair from her face she spluttered. “You're awake.” her voice cracking from sleep.

“I don’t feel awake. I feel numb,” Gendry muttered tapping his fingers against each other.

“I’m not surprised. They gave you a fair amount of essence of nightshade and other herbs. You are probably high out of your mind.”

“Huh,” he nodded feeling his head bobble on his neck before gasping and pulling the blanket up to the base of his neck his arms resting on top of the blanket. “I’m not wearing a shirt.”

“So”  she notched her eyebrows at him.

He whispered back in full seriousness “My Marks are showing.”

“You do realize you’re not covering your… oh never mind. Do you actually care if I see your mark? I know exactly what it looks like and you know that.”

“Do I?” he said exasperatedly. “Because you never told me that. You never said anything you just stared at me and left. Walked away like you were never coming back.”

“You could have come after me?” She offered quietly looking down into her lap.

“PFFFFT, I am a blacksmith apprentice in flea bottom. You are the daughter to the Warden of The North. I have no rights to you.”

She held his gaze for a long time before sighing. “Of course you do you're my mate.”

At that point, she stood and took a knife out of a dresser drawer that sat by the bed and began to cut off her sleeves at the shoulder. He asked, “Should you really be doing that?”

“I don’t care,” she answered throwing the sleeves to the ground sitting on the bed beside him. Reaching out she started to examine the wolf on his shoulder, and he did the same. The wolf face seemed so much more thin on her skinny arms but it staired up at him with the same intensity that it always had on his shoulder.

“That’s Nymeria,” Ayra spoke up.

He frowned. “What's a Nymeria?”

“My pet Direwolf,” she said pointing to the ground beside the bed. Leaning over he saw a massive wolf wrapped around the legs of the chair she had been sitting in. The wolf hadn’t moved but stared up at him with that same intensity he had only ever seen in his artwork.

“Right. Massive pet wolf, cause that’s normal.” Arya ignored him moving over to the other arm.

He did the same but paused running his fingers over the thin white lines that branched out from the base of the bull's horns. “Huh, I always thought that was some kind of scar.”

“That is a scar.” 

“No, it's not. Look.” He said lifting a candle up of the dresser to show his shoulder to her in more light. “It looks the same on me.”

She hummed running her thumb over his shoulder. “Looks like we still have a lot to figure out.”

He captured her hand in his saying “I look forward to figuring it out together.”

She flushed fiercely. “You should know I am relying on you not remembering this because you're stoned out of your mind.”

“Oh no. M’Lady, I shall remember all of this, but you may feel better to know that once I am sober, I will be just as embarrassed as you.”

She scowled again. “Don’t call me that.”

They had fallen into a comfortable silence when the door came crashing open waking the other man in the room. In marched The King with Lord stark and several other high lords behind them. 

“Sorry to intrude” Lord stark attempted, but the King just barked over him.

“Boy did you see the person who pushed Brandon stark?”

“Yes,” Gendry nodded. “Blonde hair, red collar.”

“We already know that.” The King groaned. 

“Could you pick him out of a lineup?” Lord Stark offered.

“Yes”


	18. Ned 2

“Eddard watched as Jon and Loras braised themselves on their hands and knees. Both of them had placed a hand at the blacksmith boys wrists and shoulders. Once the healing woman had finished cutting through him and started sticking him with the tips of her cast iron sticks, so fresh out of the candle’s fire, both had needed to drop onto their stomachs and use their whole body’s to hold down his arms.

Gendry was kicking out violently. His legs thrashed about with a ruthless strength that was the detriment of anyone who got too close. When Gendry all but lifted Loras off the ground his side buckled in closing the wound around the hot stick. Being pushed again down flat onto his back, the wound bled with a new vigour.

Ned stood back beside Jon Arryn attempting to stay out of all the healing women’s way as they ran to and from the room for supplies. He played the worst role possible to a life dependent operation ‘the observer.’ That was until the doorway to the little office flew open. On the other side stood Arya, flanked by two of her other older siblings and her new sister in law.

Robb grabbed for her but missed as she flew into the room. Ned did better grabbing her at her stomach and pulling her back before she could endanger herself in the scene before them. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“You need to let me go.” She pleaded with him. Her eyes looked at him with a desperate determination.

“Do you not understand how dangerous…” he objected only to be cut off.

“I can help him.” He held fast to her until distracted by Loras’s body being completely thrown from his place. In seconds she had wrenched herself from his arms and ran ducking under Gendry’s still flailing legs throwing herself onto her knees in Loras’s place. Gendry’s free arm wrapped at her waist, the muscles were tense, ready to throw her tiny body the way he threw Loras' only to still after she grabbed hold of either side of his face.

Gendry’s body stilled but still flinched in pain as the healing woman continued her work. Arya continued to coo to him pressing her forehead to his as Jon backed away no longer needed. Letting go of Gendry’s second arm, it snaked around Arya’s shoulder each fingers digging into her back like a drowning man would to a lifeline.

Everyone inside the room and just outside the door watched in stunned silence. A warmth filled the room that could only rationally be explained by the candles. The healing woman finally said it was safe to sew him up and Jon lifted himself from his position on the floor staring his father straight in the eyes. “That’s what I was talking about.”

It was clear the second the blacksmith's shirt was cut from his body where his mark was positioned. Now that his arms were wrapped around Arya they were both clearly visible to him. Pulling his hand over his beard with a sigh Eddard shook his head. “I was not.”

Turning to Loras, who was still catching his breath, sitting leaning up against the wall after being thrown, he pressed. “But you knew?”

The blonde knight held up his hand defensively. “I was only told about the ‘possibility’ of this, this morning.  My Grandma was sending a scout of sorts to search out the area on a hunch.”

“She should have minded her own business” Arya snapped. Her voice was so harsh in comparison to the delicacy of her fingers as she placed the boy’s unconscious head onto the floor.

“Should she?” Margaery spouted. As she, Robb and Sansa moved into the room.

“Yeah, Arya.” Robb agreed nodding at his wife. “She was right.”

Arya tensed as they spoke unwrapping herself from Gendry’s arms, that now weighed down on her in his unconscious state, and made to stand. “I knew she was right.”

“You knew!” Loras spluttered as everyone gaped at her. “Since when?”

“I met him the day I went into town looking for Jon,” Arya stated plainly, now facing her family straight on with a dead expression.

“Why didn’t you tell somebody?” Margaery exclaimed. 

Ned watched as his younger daughter's eyes subconsciously fell onto her sister for just a moment before looking back to Margaery. Sansa turned to him, her mouth open as if to protest but no words came out. There was nothing to say.

Not truly seeing her sister Arya shrugged at Margaery.  “What good could it have done?”

Margaery looked about the room for support, but like Ned, each of his children wore a mask hiding their emotions. No one would claim to understand Arya totally but each of them understood Arya’s relation to the world of Mates and Marks was complicated. Margaery huffed in frustration with them but turned to Arya with a soothing tone. “Only good can come from sharing news like this.”

A flash of anger went through Arya as she reached the end of her rope. “Because this has been so good for him.”

The curtain that separated them from the healing room proper opened again, and the last of the Maesters exited. This brought Ned back to the dire situation they were in reminding him of his tiny son's broken body on the other side. Grand Maester Pycelle was the last to exit. “My lord … Arryn, My lord … Stark I have sent for the King... and the rest of the small council we will be meeting in the small council chambers.”

“Thank you Grand Maester.” Arryn nodded back at him before turning to the whole room. “This will take a while. Perhaps some of you children could stay with the patients. Keep an eye on their condition and keep them company. We will have them both moved to rooms near your quarters before we go.”

“I’ll stay with Bran,” Robb affirmed.

And I can help” Sansa offered. “The Queen excused me for the night. She suddenly had to deal with Sir Clegane’s trip to Casterly Rock.”

Jon’s head snapped to her at her words. He gripped her tightly at her shoulders. “What, when? Sansa when is the Hound leaving?”

“I wasn’t part of the conversation,” Sansa said startled by her half brother's uncharacteristic directness. Looking between her father and Jon she continued. “I just overheard. It sounded like he was leaving within the next couple of minutes. That was almost an hour ago!”

A fit of anger burned in Jon’s eyes. “We need to see the king now!”

Loras, Jon, Lord Arryn and Himself had rushed to the small council room where the council was waiting for them. The four of them stood across the table from where the assembly was seated. Ned felt sick as Jon took the lead stepping up in front of the King to explain what had happened. Anger burned even brighter as he heard who had attacked his son so gruesomely.

“That is a large accusation to make lad.”  The King warned giving Jon a sombre look.

“it is not an accusation it is the truth,” Jon promised, staring down the older man. He turned to the hand. “Did you not see him?”

“I saw the assailant was blond and the appropriate height for the crown prince.” Lord Arryn admitted.

“And he wore a red collar,” Loras added as Jon had turned to him. “We were on a poor angle, Jon.”

Jon world around to face him the fire falling from his face as Ned could only offer him a hopeless shrug of his shoulders. Feeling useless he uttered. “I saw nothing but the fall.”

He looked up to his King who had a skeptical look on his face as he tilted the wine in his hand from edge to edge of the goblet. “Your Grace I know this is a lot to take in, but as your friend, please hear me. Jon would not come to you unless he was completely certain. ”

“Yes yes.” Robert huffed pulling on his face in frustration. “Stark blood, can’t lie, you’ll melt from guilt.”

“Robert” He pleaded again. “I understand. You must feel protective of your own child, but please recognize mine is fighting for his life right now.”

Giving a curt nod the King conceded. Motioning to Ser Barristan who stood by the door he gave the order. “Find the boy. Bring him here.”

Once Barristan had left Robert downed his goblet of wine and bellowed for another. Most of the small council stood from their seats as they waited for his return. Renly moved to talked to Loras while Balish and Stannis moved to talk to the Hand, but each offered Eddard their condolences on their way by. Politely nodding his thanks, Eddard looked past them to see Jon who had slowly grown pale and was now propping himself up on the small council's table.

Stepping up to him he instinctively wrapped his arm around his son’s shoulder who immediately leaned into him muttering for only him to here. “Bran’s fighting for his life.”

“I know.” he sighed giving him a comforting squeeze. “I know.”

The door opened again behind him. Turning expecting to see Barrastan returning with the prince, he instead was met with the steely-eyed glare of the Queen.

Sweeping into the room, she immediately took the chair beside her husband as he groaned 'for fuck sake.' Right behind her, the Prince strutted with a sneer plastered on his face as he was flanked by four other blond boys about his height dressed in different shades of red.

Making herself comfortable in her chair she gestured to the boys "May I present Willem, Martyn, Lancel and Daymen to the small council."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I know how to not write slight cliff hangers. I don't think I have the ability.
> 
> And I wanna give a shout out to Lauren+bull and Phoenix because there comments really shaped the first 500 words of this chapter.


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